Comings and Goings
by Kimberly T
Summary: Not long ago, thanks to the Hunters, the whole world found out there were gargoyles in New York. Including a few clans that had thought they were alone in the world. Now... Look out, New York! Nos. 19 and 20 in the Life Goes On series.
1. Planes, Trains and Automobiles

**COMINGS AND GOINGS (PART 1 OF 2)**

By Kimberly T. (email: kimbertow at yahoo dot com)

Standard Disclaimer: All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All original characters are the property of Kimberly T.

Author's note: although this story is posted after "Flesh and Stone," parts of it actually take place before and during the events of that story. Rated R for violence and a few bits of adult language. And speaking of language, any screwups in foreign language translations are mine too. Sentences and phrase in doubled parantheses are ((translated from Japanese)), while sentences and phrases bracketed by pound signs are #translated Spanish#, and finally, sentences and phrases surrounded by slashes are /translated German/.

_**Previously, on Gargoyles: Life Goes On…**_

At the edge of the roof perched another man, sitting soaking up the sunlight with his eyes closed. At the squeak of the door hinges he called out without turning around, "Is that you, Maurice?"

"It's me, Adam," the first man said cheerfully. "I'm a little surprised to find you awake and up here, but Yvette said you were waiting for me. Needing a private chat, I assume?"

"You know me too well, brother mine," Adam said wryly as Maurice made his careful way to the edge of the roof and gingerly sat down next to him.

"From the crib, brother mine," Maurice said with fond nostalgia, clapping his hand to Adam's shoulder. His hand, pale and showing the first 'liver-spots' of age, made a stark contrast against Adam's mahogany-dark skin. "So, what's on your mind? Worries about the upcoming trip?"

"What else? The only people we have knowledge of who live in New York are the friends of friends, or relatives of the friends of friends, and not one of them do we dare trust with our secret. We'll have no allies up there, no 'safe-house' to retreat to if we're discovered or things go badly. The smart thing to do would be to delay until after we've established an advance party up there, to make a safe-house for us if need be… And yet, we dare not delay any longer. Not after reading that article from the New York Sun that Alphonse showed to us last night."

Maurice nodded grimly. "I know what you mean. From the looks of that article, we're heading directly into a war zone."

"Which makes our mission all the more important... and potentially all the more hazardous. Which is why only you, Marcel and I will be going now."

**_"Interlude: New Orleans"_**

" 'Ey, Stephen, it's Marcel. No, we ain't in New York yet, and we ain't getting dere any time real soon, neither; broke down in Tennessee. Mechanic says de engine block cracked; be at least t'ree days before we get a new engine shipped in, maybe more, an' den dey got to install it… You tell Robert that next time he says he got a 'real sweet deal' on a vehicle for us, we rip his head off and shit down his throat, okay? Adam, he so pissed his eyes like headlights… Yeah, dat's the other t'ing I call to tell you about. Rebecca's wit' us, stowed away before we left. Cherie done anchored herself to de cab overhead, can you believe dat? Only found her when night come…"

_**"Interlude: Road Trip"**_

Heinrich snorted in derision. "/I should now be able to order a meal in a restaurant, shop for clothing, ask for directions and buy train and plane tickets anywhere in America.../"

"/Assuming you would be so foolish as to even try any of those things/" Helmut agreed with a wry smile.

"/But still, the words may come in handy to know while I am searching; perhaps I'll overhear some little clue in a conversation between humans/" Heinrich said as he started to put the headphones back on.

Helmut picked up a newspaper clipping from the desk and looked at it again; they'd all looked at that clipping several times in the last few weeks. Worn and faded from so much handling, the headline still read in bold letters, "Menshenartige, fliegende Geschopfe im New York entdeckt/Man-sized flying creatures discovered in New York/" Helmut looked the article over again, studying the blurred photo that accompanied it, and said softly, "/Do you really think this isn't a hoax, that they truly exist? More of our kind, in an American city/"

"Ja," Heinrich said simply. Then, "/I have to believe. For Gregor's sake… I will not let my nephew be the last of his kind./" Then he hit the 'Play' button on the tape player again, and resumed his English lessons.

_**"Faith, Hope and Love"**_

Hiroshi nodded grimly, and Kai knew from his eyes that Hiroshi had already guessed what Kai had in mind. He and the American babbled back and forth for a while, and looked over some papers the man carried in his pockets, before Hiroshi reported, "He wishes to return as soon as possible, and his temporary visa will expire in two weeks."

"Then we have only that much time to prepare." Kai looked over at Yama, his expression painfully wry. "Yama-san… You are finally going to get your heart's desire, though now it is your desire no longer."

Yama looked bewildered… and a little afraid, as if he half-suspected and feared what Kai was about to say. "Kai-sama…?"

"For the next two weeks, you are going to spend every hour of every night with Hiroshi-san, learning all the English you can cram between your ears," Kai said bluntly. "Because when this American returns to his homeland, you are going with him."

Gasps of surprise, amazement and scandalized outrage erupted spontaneously from most of the clan, but Kai overrode all their voices with a stern, "Your past desire to learn more of the world outside has made you the best suited for this task: to be our ambassador to the Manhattan clan! And to bring back with you whomever they wish to evacuate, to escape these gargoyle-slaying humans. Not knowing the language and customs over there, without an armed force of native human allies to guard our sleep during the day, any battle force we sent over would be at such a disadvantage that we might as well ask them to commit _seppuku_ upon arrival. But one lone warrior, at least partly familiar with their language and customs, with a guide to help him slip into their country and back out again… One lone warrior might have a chance to reach them, talk to them and bring back as many as wish to come live with us instead of face extinction in their homeland. If you can persuade them _all_ to come live among us, all the better, though I suspect their warriors may wish to fight to the last breath to defend their home. But Goliath said that only a few members of their clan remain after they were betrayed by one of their human allies; these slayers might wipe their clan out entirely, if we do not move quickly!"

Yama had gone a paler shade of gray at his words, but he set Manekineko aside and stood up to bow deeply to Kai. "As you command, Kai-sama."

**_"Yama's Path"_**

Robert wordlessly pointed with one hand at where he was aiming his NVB's with the other: off to the southwest, and _upwards_. Victor hurriedly but quietly opened the door and slipped out of the SUV, to train his binoculars in the direction Robert was pointing. "What am I looking for?"

"I swear to God, I do _not_ know. But there's three of them, two big ones and a little one…"

"Where? I don't… _Madre de Dios_!"

"You see 'em now, huh?"

"I… I see them, but I don't believe my eyes!" Victor lowered his NVB's for a moment to stare fixedly at that same patch of starry sky with only his eyes, but saw nothing in that fashion; they were too far away to make out against the field of stars. So he lifted his binoculars back into position, and focused them in more sharply. "The… the biggest one is carrying a passenger…"

"And the last one in line is carrying some bundles in its hands. And I swear to God that the little one between them is carrying a teddy bear…"

"_Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum_…"

"Um… do we report this?"

"…No. Absolutely not. We are going to keep our mouths shut about this to everyone on shift, all right? The only one I'm going to talk about this to is Father Aguilar, after I say about a hundred rosaries… Or maybe I'll just get very, very drunk. Or maybe I'll do both…"

By unspoken agreement, the U.S.-Mexico Border Patrol agents kept their NVB's trained on the bizarre flyers overhead until they had crossed well over the border into the U.S.

_**"The Times, They Are a-Changin'… Part 1: Best-Laid Plans"**_

_**AND NOW…**_

**COMINGS AND GOINGS**

**PART 1: PLANES, TRAINS AND AUTOMOBILES**

Sunday morning, just after dawn; the Sunday before Thanksgiving. Atop a castle in the middle of Manhattan, a clan of gargoyles had gone to their daily rest minus one of their number; their clan leader was still on his honeymoon with his human bride. But Manhattan is not the only borough in the vast city of New York…

North of Manhattan, in the borough of Bronx, an eighteen-wheeled truck slowly and carefully pulled into the parking lot of Our Lady of Mercy Roman Catholic Church. Father William Perry, the pastor of that parish, watched anxiously as the massive truck inched forward, backed up a trifle, and slowly moved forward again; his church's parking lot wasn't all that big, and he was very fond of the rosebushes that were planted along one side, appallingly close to where the truck was supposed to go. But the driver knew his vehicle well, and parked in the space set aside with several inches to spare. The aged priest sighed with relief as the truck's great rumbling engine gave one last sigh and shut down, and stepped up to greet the people climbing down out of the truck's cab. "Good morning, and God bless! Maurice? How was your trip?"

The first person to reach the pavement, a slender gentleman with pale skin and silvered hair who had exited from the passenger side, smiled wryly and held out his hand as he said, "It went quite well, once we were on the road again! Hello, William; it's been far too long…"

"Thirty-eight years since graduation," William agreed with a nod as they cordially shook. "We've a lot of catching up to do… But first, you would be Adam?" as he turned to the middle-aged man with coffee-dark skin who had climbed down from the driver's side of the cab.

"Naw, I'm Marcel LeBeau, pleased to meetcha," the man said with an easy grin as he shook hands. With his free hand, he jerked a thumb back over his shoulder as he added, "Adam, he stuck in the seat behind for this last leg; be out in a bit…"

As Marcel spoke, the passenger side door opened again and another man, wearing a trenchcoat, appeared in the doorway… and jumped out. A split-second later, the man seemed to realize the folly of jumping from a point over seven feet up onto solid concrete, and flailed in midair for a moment, but it was too late; gravity had him in its grip, and it held on with glee until he'd slammed into the unforgiving pavement with a painfully loud _thump,_ landing on his feet but immediately falling to his hands and knees.

Father William exclaimed aloud and rushed over to his side, but the man waved him off got to his feet with a sheepish grin that glistened whitely in his mahogany-brown face. "I'm all right, Father; 'the Good Lord watches over fools and children'… Ah, Adam DuBois, at your service."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Adam," William said with a smile. He made note of the last name, and blinked at the decided contrast in skin tones between this man and his old friend from seminary school; then, making sure the friendly smile was still in place, he asked politely, "If I may ask, in what way are you related to Father Maurice DuBois, if any?"

"By adoption," Father Maurice DuBois said with a smile as he came over. "My parents adopted him as a child… not long before I left for seminary school. My mother said she couldn't handle an empty nest, so she adopted another baby bird… and he's as clumsy flapping about now as he was then," he said to his companion with a teasing smile.

"Always tripping over my big feet," Adam agreed wryly. Father William couldn't help looking down just then, and silently agreeing; Adam had the biggest feet he'd seen since the Turner family's boy had gone off to play professional basketball for the L.A. Lakers. The shoes he wore had clearly been handcrafted for him, and rather poorly at that; the arches were quite high, and there was something odd about the heels. No wonder the poor man was so clumsy.

"Well, let's bring your luggage inside the rectory; I've still an hour before I'll need to prepare for Sunday Mass," William said as he waved them towards his rectory. "And my housekeeper has prepared a fine breakfast for you all; after spending over two weeks either on the road or stranded in Tennessee, I'm sure you're ready to appreciate some proper home cooking…"

Adam yawned hugely as he helped to get the bags out of the truck's cab, and apologized for it as he helped to carry a few suitcases inside… And apologized further, while explaining that his own bags were still in the cab and would remain there, where he'd be sleeping. "I have a back problem, you see, and I require a special mattress for sleeping on, so I had one made that fits right in the back of the cab. It's built in, as a matter of fact, and quite comfy. While I'm delighted to share meals with you and the rest, I hope you're not offended that I'd rather sleep out there."

"A guest's comfort is his host's first concern," William said with a smile. Privately, he thought that Adam just wanted to sleep in the cab to ensure no one broke into it at night, and was mildly insulted; yes, there were sections of the city that had high rates of auto theft and other property crimes, but not _his_ parish! But it could be that he truly had a bad back, and if he really would be more comfortable on his own mattress, well, that was one less set of sheets to need changing.

"Adam drove all night in order for us to get here this early," Father Maurice said with a concerned look at Adam as the man yawned yet again. "After breakfast and perhaps an early Mass, he'll need to get some sleep."

"I'll be happy to say an early Mass for you," William said with a worried frown, "But it's apt to get noisy in the parking lot as the rest of the parishioners arrive for the regular Mass. Perhaps you should sleep in the rectory after all?"

Adam just smiled and shook his head. "I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine in the truck; once I get to sleep, nothing short of an explosion could wake me. I sleep like the proverbial rock."

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Sunday events proceeded in the usual manner for Father William until one p.m.; then he received a call that one of his female parishioners, a woman eight months pregnant, had just been hit by a car. She was being rushed to the hospital, and her husband begged Father William to come and administer last rites in case either she or the baby didn't make it. Father William made swift apologies to his guests and rushed to the hospital, and didn't return until after nightfall. "It was touch and go for a while, particularly for the baby even after the emergency cesarean, but the doctor said both mother and daughter are out of danger now," he said with tired relief as he and his guests sat down to dinner. "Maria Consuela Dorotea Gonzalez may have come into this world a bit earlier than planned, but God willing, she'll be a blessing to our parish for many years to come." Then he noticed that one of the seats at the dinner table was empty. "Goodness, where's your brother, Maurice? He's not still sleeping out in the truck!"

"No, Adam woke up a little while ago, and took one of the motorcycles to go visiting some other people," Maurice assured him. "Didn't I tell you? Adam's always been curious about his birth mother, and recently he discovered that she had relatives up here in New York. But the ones he was able to track down keep very late hours, being swing-shift workers, so they're more awake and ready for visitors at night. And he's got a lot of questions to ask them, so I wouldn't expect him back until the wee hours of the morning…"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

At that very moment, farther south in the borough of Manhattan, the gargoyles of Castle Wyvern were discovering that they were under siege by the Quarrymen. But thanks to Hudson's long memory and shrewd thinking, and with a little help from their human allies, the clan circumvented the siege and continued their patrols with only minor inconvenience.

And the Earth kept turning, New York slowly moving from night to day, from a fairly quiet weekend to the typical hustle-n-bustle of a Monday morning…

Not that Dominique Destine had any idea what day of the week it was. Or even what year it was, for that matter.

She was drunk, and determined to keep it that way for as long as she could, and thanks to an extremely high credit rating and liquor store owners that didn't ask questions, she was succeeding admirably. That is, if there can be anything admirable about a woman currently lying facedown on the floor of a mansion, only semi-conscious as she sprawled bonelessly in a dried-up puddle of her own vomit.

RRRRIIIINNNGGGGG RRRRIIIINNNGGGGG RRRRIIIINNNGGGGG

That sound hurt her head. A lot. And it had been going on for a long time, she was pretty sure of that… She wanted somebody to make it stop, but there was no one else around. After another eternity of that infernal ringing, she blearily lifted her head, then staggered to her hands and knees and looked around for its source. After a while, her eyes focused enough for her to make out her cell phone, lying on the coffee table in the midst of empty bottles of absinthe, bourbon and cognac (she'd tried to do her drinking alphabetically for a while, last Tuesday or Wednesday, but couldn't think of what kind of liquor came after ((Jack)) Daniels.) It took another couple of minutes before she could get her limbs coordinated enough to crawl over there, and once she did, she lifted her hand to smash the cell phone but instead hit it a glancing blow that knocked it off the coffee table and onto the floor next to her. Somehow, as it tumbled, it flipped open and activated, and after it landed she heard a tinny little voice with a Scottish brogue coming out of it. "_It's about bloody time, witch! I may be immortal thanks to ye, ye blue sodden bitch, but that doesna mean I have all Christ-damned day_!"

She collapsed on the floor next to the open cell phone, and blinked stupidly at it for a few seconds. "Mmmacbeth? What're you (hic) doing in there?" Then she remembered; that was a telephone, and humans had created them so they could talk to other people far away. So Macbeth wasn't inside the little device; he was somewhere else, far away! She half-giggled for a second; humans were really such clever creatures…

After a pause, Macbeth's voice came through the phone again, not as irate as before. "_Aye, it's me, Demona or Dominique or whatever ye call yerself during the day now. Now listen carefully… come closer to the phone… are ye listening, Demona_?"

She dragged herself closer to the phone, clumsily sweeping some bottles out of the way so she could cuddle right next to it. "I'm list'ning," she said in a whisper, successfully suppressing another hiccup.

"_Good. NOW SOBER UP, YE BLUE SODDEN BITCH! Ye've been drunk for nigh onto a week now, and I'm sick an' tired of feelin' the effects of it! I had to cancel me morning classes because o' ye! I dinna know why ye're drinkin' yerself half ta death all this time, an' I dinna care, so long as it stops_!"

_Sick and tired_, the phrase reverberated through her head as she flinched away from the too-loud phone. Macbeth was sick and tired of this. So was Demona, now that she thought about it for even a second. Well there was one way to make it all stop… She slurred, "Y'wanna cumover an kill me now?"

There was a long, long pause. Finally Macbeth responded, sounding irritable, "Even if I tried to come over right now, yuir drinking an' this cursed link would have me falling flat on me face before I could get within fifty feet of ye. So sober up, ye sodden hag, an' then ye can ask me that again…"

The phone clicked as he hung up. Dominique stuck her tongue out at the phone, then rolled away from it and began fumbling around for another bottle. But all the bottles within arm's reach were empty, and finally she sighed, slumped on the floor again and closed her eyes.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

A few hours later that day, and several miles further north, the afternoon sun shone through the windows of the rectory, onto some sheets of paper that Father Maurice and Marcel were going over. They were computer printouts, most of them listings of religious institutions; not only every Catholic church in the five boroughs of Manhattan, but churches and temples of nearly every known religious persuasion. There was also another sheet of paper, which listed and gave the addresses for every police precinct in the boroughs. Several listings scattered among the pages had stars marked next to them, as if those entries were of particular interest, but many of those entries and several others now had lines drawn through them. Father William drew a line through another entry, shaking his head and muttering, "Such a very large haystack to look through, for these precious needles…"

"Shoulda brought more folk to search," Marcel muttered back.

Father Maurice shook his head to that as well. "Adam had sound reasons for the restriction, even if Rebecca's unasked-for presence has been most helpful. Considering that helicopter they saw last night…"

"Making laps 'round de tallest building in de city," Marcel finished for him. "Which b'longs to dat same rich boy we been hearing 'bout… Seems t'me dat's where dey most apt to be, den."

"Possibly… but for now, that simply can't be verified. And frankly, considering all the publicity, it'd be downright foolish of them to be there; it's far more likely, if their leader has any sort of cunning, that they've made just enough of a show to make it seem like that's their home, while they actually dwell somewhere else." Maurice pensively shook his head, then tapped one of the sheets of paper. "I'm still of the opinion that they'll be found at one of these locations. For better or worse, the Catholic Church is well versed in keeping secrets…"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

At that very moment, miles to the south in Manhattan, Castle Wyvern was under assault from within; a lone workman under the influence of Castaway's anti-gargoyle crusade was attacking Broadway's statue with a crowbar, breaking one of his wings. But that tale has been told already (see "Flesh and Stone"); now look to the east, to the borough of Queens…

The Queens railyards are always busy; freight trains bring in goods from all over the continental U.S. and Canada, and on their return trips distribute goods brought in from overseas via New York's harbors. A freight train from Cincinnati, Ohio, had pulled in less than ten minutes ago, and already the yard crews were working on it; the assorted boxcars were speedily disconnected, sorted and shunted to side rails for unloading by other crews.

Deep inside one particular boxcar, carrying ready-to-assemble furniture from a factory in Montana, a young man is uncurling from his hiding spot inside a crate, shivering in the cold air despite multiple layers of ragged and dirty clothing. It's evident that he had been sleeping, lulled to that state by the monotonous rumbling and clacking known as the 'song of the rails', but awoken when the train stopped and the boxcar was decoupled. He looks around and listens tensely; though the doors to the boxcar are not open, he can hear men talking just outside. With a worried expression on his Hispanic features, he looks back into the crate from which he had emerged. There is a rumpled bed of blankets in one corner of the crate, surrounded by jugs of water and small bags of non-perishable food. The rest of the crate is occupied by what appear at first glance to be piles of colorful clothing. But if the clothing, layers upon layers of ponchos, were to be removed, one would see three stone statues of nonhuman creatures crouched or sitting in repose…

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

At the same moment that the train was pulling into the railyard, miles away, a Delta Airlines plane was taxiing up to a terminal at JFK International. A flight from Tokyo to New York, with stops in Seattle and Chicago for refueling. A plane packed with hundreds of tourists and businessmen, both Americans returning to their homeland and Japanese coming to visit it, for business or pleasure or both. Seats 27D and 27E on the passenger manifest were listed as being filled by Vincent Gregarino, an American tourist returning home after a few months in Japan, and Hiroshi Fukuda, a Japanese tourist visiting America for the first time. But the plane carried another person not listed on the passenger manifest, though an entry had been made on the cargo manifest.

"I still can't believe they let you claim that big crate as baggage, 'steada putting it on a cargo aircraft," Vinnie muttered quietly after they had debarked from the aircraft, claimed their standard luggage from the baggage terminal and were now being escorted by airline personnel to another area of the airport, to claim the last of Hiroshi's listed belongings.

"The Japanese understand the glory and burden of honor more than most Americans can ever hope to," Hiroshi muttered quietly back, not quite masking his tone of quiet superiority. In truth, it had also cost quite a bit more to have that precious crate loaded onto a passenger aircraft instead of a standard cargo flier, but after Hiroshi had explained to the Delta personnel working in the Tokyo airport that he was personally responsible for that statue's safe transport to the USA, they had agreed to the unusual arrangements.

In the cargo terminal, Hiroshi inspected the crate, verifying that it appeared undamaged and the discreet seals were intact, then waited with the crate and the rest of their luggage while Vinnie went to call one of his many cousins, one who owned a moving van, to pick them up and transport them and their luggage to the Gregarino family home. Though he was outwardly calm and supremely patient, inside Hiroshi was getting impatient and more than a little worried. They had been due to arrive in New York nearly two hours ago, but severe headwinds had slowed their flight and necessitated more stops for refueling. Sunset was less than three hours away now, and that crate had to be secured away from prying eyes and ears before then.

Vinnie came back and confirmed that his cousin Bert was on his way, and would probably be there in less than an hour. "But I gotta pay him fifty bucks for this, and be on standby to take his sister to the homecoming prom if she can't get a date on her own," he grumbled. "And my parents are probably going to want me to help clean out the attic as well as the garage, since we're storing the crate at their place. If this keeps up, I'm gonna end up owing favors to half of Manhattan."

Hiroshi did not quite roll his eyes at the young man's grumblings, but he was unable to keep a dry tone from his voice as he pointed out, "The sooner we find the Manhattan clan of gargoyles and persuade them to come to Ishimura for sanctuary, the sooner you will no longer have to worry about them interfering with your life again."

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Two-and-a-half hours later, Hiroshi slipped out of the Gregarino family's home and into their garage, sighing with relief. He had talked his way into going out there alone by telling the senior Gregarinos that it was part of his sacred tradition to meditate in private every sunset, with an image of the Buddha and of a few Shinto _kami_ statuettes that he just happened to have in his luggage. But while he had another purpose entirely for going out there now, he thought perhaps some meditation would be in order afterwards, just to relieve the stress of his stay so far in the blessed silence. Vinnie Gregarino's mother was apparently a kindly woman, but by all the _kami_, she was such a chatterbox! Constantly asking him questions about his life in Japan and about how he and Vinnie had met, and then interrupting before he could finish to rather unfavorably compare life in his village (that is, what aspects of village life that he shared with her, none of which involved gargoyles) with the physical and social amenities found in Manhattan. The Gregarino father had said much less, thankfully (and at one point had even shared a commiserating glance with Hiroshi about Mrs. Gregarino's constant chatter), but some of what he'd said had made plain his own prejudice against Hiroshi's people, apparently based on his father's tales of fighting 'Japs' in World War II. All in all, it was making for a most disharmonious visit, and Hiroshi was sure he would be very glad to go back to his homeland when their mission was over.

He dug the small prybar out of his personal luggage, then hurriedly used it to pry off the top of the large crate, that had been so carefully constructed back in Ishimura; layers of insulation to retain heat and to severely muffle any sound coming from within, but threaded through with dozens of air tubules connected to disguised holes in the exterior, to provide fresh air when it was needed. The gargoyle Kenun had willingly volunteered to test the crate before shipping, and had spent a full day and half a night inside it with minimal discomfort, but due to having flown against the sun's path to arrive in New York, his companion had now spent _two_ days and a complete if abbreviated night inside it. And while there was room for a smallish gargoyle to crouch or sit down inside the crate, there was not much room beyond that; Hiroshi hoped that Yama had endured his confinement without bouts of claustrophobia.

He heard some cracking and rumbling sounds from within as he pried the last nail out, and silently congratulated himself on his timing as he knocked four times on the side of the crate, then heaved and shoved the lid upwards. As he did so, a gray arm adorned with a slim fin along the forearm and a three-fingered hand helped him shove the lid the rest of the way off; then Yama popped up, standing tall and partially unfurling his wings. Yama waggled his wings and stretched out his arms with a wide grin on his homely face, saying in Nihongo, "((Ahhh… may I never take a good-sized room for granted, ever again! Have we arrived, then?))"

"((We are in the garage of the Gregarino family home,))" Hiroshi told him as he stepped back, and gestured for Yama to climb out of the crate and onto the garage floor. "((So far, so good… How was your short night inside?))"

"((It went well enough,))" Yama said as, instead of climbing out immediately, he looked down at his legs, still inside the crate. "((But there has been a complication…))"

"**_EEEEEEEKKK_**!" _CRASH_

Startled, Hiroshi and Yama both turned at the sound of the scream and crash, to find Mrs. Gregarino standing at the top of the stairs that led into the house, with a tray of shattered ceramic teapot and cups at her feet. But before they could say a word, she turned and bolted back into the house, bawling "_TONIEEEEE_!"

"((She's calling for her husband,))" Hiroshi explained hurriedly as he reached for Yama's arm and began tugging determinedly on it. "And we'd both better be gone from here before he comes out!" He had absolutely no doubt that when Mr. Gregarino came out, he would be armed with a weapon of some sort; probably a gun, since judging by the TV shows he'd seen, nearly every American over the age of twelve had one. "((Come _on_!))"

"Stand back," Yama ordered tersely, and when Hiroshi did so, Yama braced himself against one side of the box, lifted his legs and kicked hard. One side of the box exploded outwards in a mess of wood and insulating material, leaving Yama free to bound out of his confinement… But immediately after doing so, even as Hiroshi shoved aside boxes to get at a blocked side door, Yama reached back into the ruined crate, cooing, "((Come on out, sweetheart…))"

"((_Sweetheart_!))" Hiroshi blurted out incredulously as he spun around, but there was no more time for explanations; the door to the house burst open again, and Mr. Gregarino stood at the top of the steps with a baseball bat in his hands and a scared yet determined expression on his face.

(_Just a baseball bat, thank Buddha_,) Hiroshi thought to himself as he jumped to a position beside Yama and took up a defensive stance. Distance weapons, particularly guns, were a real threat, but a mere baseball bat should be no more difficult to deal with than a standard _bokken_ or club. If it connected, it could do severe damage, but the night a gargoyle and human fighting together couldn't take on one lone man with a _bokken_, Hiroshi would eat his constable's cap with teriyaki sauce.

Just then a horrible screeching sound came from the depths of the ruined crate, and a bob-tailed calico cat came bounding out, to plant herself right in front of Yama. Manekineko, Yama's cat, braced herself sideways with her fur standing on end, flattened her ears and bared her fangs at Mr. Gregarino, and gave an evil hiss that spiraled into another ear-piercing war-scream. Her attitude was plain to see: _If you want to fight, you'll have to take **me** on first_!

Hiroshi's lips trembled with the effort, but he finally couldn't hold back the giggles. Yama groaned, "((Manekineko-chan, for the love of the _kami_, get back!))" But the cat ignored him and actually danced forward a pace, daring the stranger with the club to come down and take his punishment!

For a few long instants they all stood frozen in place, with everyone, including Mr. Gregarino, staring down at the cat. Then Mr. Gregarino sneezed explosively, causing everyone else to jump (Hiroshi would later swear that Manekineko went three feet straight upwards, and hovered there like a living _kami_ for a full two seconds before returning to earth.) Then he turned partly away and called plaintively back into the house, "Margaret! There's a _cat_ here!"

"_Dad, don't hurt 'em_!" Vinnie shoved past his father, holding his pants up with one hand; evidently he had been busy attending to nature's call when his mother had decided to come out to the garage. He got past his father and one foot onto the next step down, but backpedaled fast when Manekineko lifted a pawful of lethal claws and gave another screech of warning. "Oh jeez, it's that cat again! I thought we left her in Japan… Better stay back, Dad; that cat _bites_!" as Vinnie shook his left hand in pained remembrance of previously inflicted wounds.

"A cat!" Mrs. Gregarino poked her head into the gap between her husband and son, her eyes wide with incredulity. "That's no cat, that's a mon—oh, there _is_ a cat! Oh dear, we're scaring it!"

"We're –_wahh-choohh_!—scaring _it_!" Mr. Gregarino said incredulously, in between sneezes.

"Oh get inside, Tony, you know you're allergic. Didn't I tell you that you should get those allergy shots?" Mrs. Gregarino said with scolding affection as she pulled her husband back into the house, taking his place on the top step. Then she seemed to remember quite suddenly that the garage held more than just a scared and angry cat… She swallowed hard as she looked slowly up at Yama, with eyes as wide as tea saucers.

"Mom, it's okay, he's not going to hurt anybody," Vinnie said with concern as he laid a hand on her shoulder. "I know he looks freaky, but he's really all right… believe it or not, he's a math teacher!"

"A… math teacher!" Mrs. Gregarino said incredulously. From inside the house, Mr. Gregarino echoed the same words, with the same tone of disbelief.

Yama slowly but formally bowed to her, then said haltingly in his hastily-learned English, "Please excuse bad …frightening; most apologies. Ishimura Yama," as he gestured at himself. Then he gave a sheepish grin and waved towards his cat, who had relaxed her stance somewhat but was still keeping a wary eye on the strangers, as he said "Manekineko, my cat. She protect gargoyles…"

"Y-you're a gargoyle? A… a Japanese gargoyle _math teacher_!" Mrs. Gregarino shook her head. "I need to sit down…"

"Good idea, Mom," Vinnie said encouragingly. "Let's take this to the living room, huh?" as he tugged gently on her arm, while gesturing for the others to slowly come forward. Yama and Hiroshi both slowly and cautiously came forward, Yama stooping down to scoop up Manekineko in the process. They started to follow the Gregarinos inside, when Vinnie paused and looked apologetically at Yama. "Uh, could you maybe leave the cat out here? Dad really is allergic."

"((How did she end up coming along, anyway?))" Hiroshi murmured to Yama as the gray gargoyle tried to put his cat down and persuade her to remain in the garage… without noticeable success.

"((She must have snuck into the crate after I went to stone sleep, just before the others sealed it for the trip,))" Yama murmured back. "((Manekineko-chan, little brave heart, you must stay here, understand? Stay with the crate…))"

But cats are renowned for not doing what they're told, and Yama and Hiroshi exchanged resigned glances as Manekineko whipped through the door-crack just before it was closed on her. She led the way into the living room, head and stubby tail held high, as Mr. Gregarino, already seated and waiting for them, tried to stifle another sneeze. Hiroshi in his turn tried to stifle a groan; while they had managed to avoid out-and-out combat, this was still a most inauspicious way to start the evening.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Many miles away, over in Brooklyn, a Hispanic-American family was just sitting down to dinner in their apartment when the phone rang. The father and head of the household, Lorenzo Velasquez, got up to answer the phone with a frown on his face; he worked a long day at the shipyards in order to put food on the table for his family, and he didn't like having that precious family time disturbed by phone calls, particularly during dinner. But his frown turned to a wide smile shortly after he answered the phone: "Hello? …Carlos¿_Como va¿Dónde ahora están usted¿Ser usted en Nueva York todavía_?"

The entire family perked up at overhearing their father's words, and the children began babbling excitedly; Rosa Velasquez had to severely hush them in order to hear the rest of her husband's half of the conversation. "#Oh, that's in Queens! You're still a ways away from our home… but not that much! It should be an easy trip for you all, even the little one. Here, I've made a list of landmarks for you to navigate by. Ready? …_Bueno_! The first landmark is the Unisphere; it's a giant steel globe, right in the middle of Flushing Meadows Corona Park in Queens. Go high enough and you can't miss it…#"

By the time Lorenzo hung up the phone, his four children were all clamoring to go up to the roof right away, and Rosa was wondering aloud how much of their dinner could be saved for when their guests arrived, and how much would be ruined if it went cold and had to be reheated. Lorenzo settled his children down and told them, "They should be here within the hour, and I want this home to be beautiful and ready for them before they arrive! Enrique, Berto, go down to the butcher shop and buy three good steaks, two big and one small one, and hurry back as fast as you can run! Ramona, tidy up the living room and make a bouquet of the best flowers in the window box. Isabel, help your mother put the food aside for reheating and set four more place settings. Only after all this is done, may you come up to the roof to wait with me!"

Forty-five minutes later, with hands and faces all scrubbed and shiny, the children waited next to their parents on the roof of their apartment building. Lorenzo cautioned his children, "Remember, speak _Español_ only while they are here; only Carlos knows enough American to get by, and it would be rude to talk in a language they don't understand!" The children nodded, while holding a homemade banner made from an old bedsheet, emblazoned with the words "¡Bienvenido a Nueva York!" Then they all faced north in high anticipation. And soon, a trio of winged shapes came gliding into view.

The first to alight on the roof in front of them was a gargoyle female of Amazonian proportions, bat-winged and hunter-green in color, with fan-shaped ears and a spiky fin running from front to back of her otherwise bald head. She carried a young human who quickly dropped from her arms as soon as they touched down, a Hispanic man in his early twenties with fairly thin features, and a wide smile blossoming under his scraggly mustache. The next one to touch down was a young female, still in her hatchlinghood, with steel-gray skin, glider wings, and a cresting fin much like the older female's parting a tousled mane of gray-blue hair. She clutched a rag-doll to her chest, one that had cloth wings and a tail painstakingly sewn on. And the third and last to alight on the roof, carrying an assortment of bags and suitcases slung into a net, was a smallish male with glider wings, a bluish-gray mane and a hide that was so pale pink it was almost white; he let out a sigh of relief as he let the bulky and heavy net fall to the roof and shook the tension out of his four-taloned hands.

"Carlos! Malaquita! Cuarzo!" Lorenzo called out their names as he recognized the newcomers, then gave a paternal smile to the little female. "#And you must be little Galena!#" The young female didn't answer him, scurrying shyly behind the adults' wings, but that didn't stop Lorenzo and his family from chorusing, "#Welcome to New York!#"

"#Thank you; we're very glad to be here at last!#" Malaquita, the dark green female, said as she too shook the stress of carrying a passenger for so long out of her arms, then reached behind herself to pluck little Galena up and bring her around to the front again. "#Don't be shy, _muchacha_; these are more of your human cousins!#"

"_S_i! #Haven't you been waiting for weeks now for someone else to play with?#" Cuarzo said as he laid a hand encouragingly on her shoulder. But when Galena abruptly wrapped herself in her wings, hiding her face from view, Cuarzo sighed and said ruefully to the Velasquez family, "#Pardon us; our daughter has never actually _met_ a stranger before."

"#It's understandable; I'm sure you always told her to hide every time someone came to the old village,#" Lorenzo said sympathetically, before turning to greet Carlos enthusiastically. "#Carlos, look how you've grown! The last time I saw you, you were barely up to Malaquita's knee!#"

"#At least now I'm up past her elbow,#" Carlos said after he embraced his older cousin, while throwing a wry grin over his shoulder at Malaquita, who towered head and shoulders over them both. Then it was newcomers' turn to be introduced to Rosa and the rest of the Velasquez family. Rosa and three of her children had said nothing since that first chorus of welcome, and had been blatantly staring at the newcomers; though Lorenzo had told them plenty of stories about his childhood friends, none of them had ever actually seen a gargoyle with their own eyes before. But Rosa's face had softened into a sympathetic smile when she saw how Galena had shyly hidden herself away; her littlest one Isabel was a shy child as well.

After introductions were made all around, Lorenzo turned to Galena (who was peeking out of her wings) and said with a smile, "#Well, little Galena, if you can be brave enough to come downstairs with us, we've prepared some special treats for you! We have _flan_, and _empanaditas al horno_, and I think we might even have a few _biscochitos_ left in the cookie jar…#"

The promise of such tasty treats finally lured Galena into going downstairs with the strange humans, and soon everyone was crowded into the Velasquez family's apartment. Hours later, after a delightful dinner, Isabel and Ramona talked the new girl into playing dolls with them, while the boys looked on a little enviously and tried to wheedle Galena into playing a board game with them instead. And while the children played, the adults sat with their coffee and talked about the adventures Carlos and the gargoyles had experienced since they had left their little village in the state of Guerrero, in the heart of Mexico. It had been over a month since they had begun their trek north; six weeks since Lorenzo had called the home of the village's mayor (the only one in the village who could afford to have a phone) and told them about what he'd seen on the evening news, flying away from the ruins of a police station. News of another gargoyle clan in existence had been all that was needed to cause Malaquita, Cuarzo and Galena to decide to leave their ancestral home and travel north, with Lorenzo's cousin Carlos Guevara accompanying them as a translator (he spoke the best English in all the village) and daytime protector. Since then, they'd been either gliding by night or sneaking into northbound trains, risking detection thousands of times but somehow, by the grace of the Virgin Mary, arriving safely at last.

"#Has there been any more news of the new clan?#" Cuarzo asked eagerly, after Carlos had finished relating their last close encounter (luckily, the hobo who had discovered them had decided the rotgut he'd been drinking was giving him hallucinations.)

"_Si_! #I've been saving all the newspaper clippings for you—that is, all the ones I believed!#" Lorenzo said as he opened a side table drawer and pulled out a sheaf of clippings for them. "#You wouldn't believe some of the crackpot things people have been saying about the gargoyles here ever since they were first sighted! Crazy things, like going through walls like ghosts and stealing people's kidneys… but most of these Anglos are so superstitious already, with their four-leaf clovers and the number 13, and they even have this saying about cracks in the sidewalk! Anyway, here are some news accounts I think we can trust. Too bad only one of them is in _Español_, from _El Diario_… Carlos, did you want to translate, or shall I?#"

Eventually they decided to all take turns, so Carlos, Lorenzo and Rosa each read aloud from their newspaper clippings while the gargoyles listened in. It was clear from the locations of the sightings given in the articles that the clan was based somewhere in Manhattan, not the borough of Brooklyn, but that island was only a short flight across the East River; the Velasquez family's home would be a fine place for the Mexican gargoyles to rest every day while searching the other borough by night. Malaquita and Cuarzo were also delighted to learn from some of the articles that the gargoyles of this city were involved in stopping criminals from harming the innocent… and decidedly unhappy to learn about the Quarrymen, a group devoted to destroying gargoyles. "#I don't like this at all,#" Malaquita growled softly, glancing over to where Galena, blissfully unaware, was playing with the other children. "#We came here to find new friends and potential mates for Galena, not _hunters_ for her!#"

"#Things may not be that bad after all,#" Rosa pointed out. "#I still have one clipping left to read, this editor's article about the Quarrymen; it condemns them as the worst sort of criminal organization, for their attacking a group of "gargoyle sympathizers". This other group is called "People for Interspecies Tolerance," and their leader is quoted as saying that they would continue to fight for the gargoyles' right to coexist with humanity. So here we have people who've never even met you, but are willing to fight for you!#"

"#And everyone in this family would die to protect you, particularly your daughter,#" Lorenzo said firmly. ""#I swear on my honor, you will be safe here!#" And after a short pause, he added wryly, "#And unlike our homeland, New York has never had an earthquake…#"

Malaquita and Cuarzo shared a long look between them; one that was silent, but filled with strong emotion. Lorenzo could guess what they were thinking about…

The gargoyles that had come to be known as the Guerrero Clan had lived in Mexico for over a thousand years, making their home deep in the mountain ranges that covered most of the state of Guerrero in southern Mexico. Their clan had survived the rise of the bloodthirsty Aztec empire, and the coming of the far more bloodthirsty conquistadors… but gargoyles in their stone sleep are as vulnerable as anyone else to earthquakes. Lorenzo hadn't even been born when the 7.7-magnitude earthquake had hit on July 28, 1957, but he knew that the main cavern that the gargoyles had lived in had collapsed as a result, entombing most of them in their sleep; only the handful of sentries who had posted outside for that day's rest had survived.

Lorenzo had grown up knowing only four gargoyles: Malaquita, Cuarzo,Ópalo and Old Yeso. Old Yeso had simply died of old age and grief for his lost clanmates before Lorenzo had turned five, but Ópalo, Cuarzo and Malaquita had managed to find reason to go on, with the help of the local village that their clan had long been allies with. All the local children, including Lorenzo, were a great help in keeping the gargoyles' spirits up, and after Malaquita went on a mating flight with Cuarzo in autumn of 1972 and produced an egg the following spring, they had more hope for the future.

Lorenzo had immigrated to the U.S. in 1980, but he had continued to exchange letters with his family while sending them money to help as best he could. In one of those letters, he'd learned about how the entire village had celebrated with the gargoyles in the spring of 1983, when little Galena had emerged from her shell. And in later letters, he'd heard about how the entire village had suffered along with the gargoyles, when that 8.1-magnitude earthquake had rocked the entire country on September 19, 1985. Thousands of people were killed in Mexico City and hundreds of thousands more made homeless, drawing most of the media's focus, but the outlying areas had suffered as well.

Four houses in Lorenzo's home village had collapsed, killing five people and injuring twelve others, and in all the uproar no one thought to look in on the gargoyles in their new cave until nearly sunset. Not that they could have done much of anything to help in the tableau that had met their eyes; while Malaquita, Cuarzo and Galena were unharmed, Ópalo's sleeping form had toppled off his high perch, and his outstretched left arm had broken off when he'd hit the floor below. Lorenzo's father had quickly improvised a tourniquet to be applied as soon as stone became flesh, but it had done no good; Ópalo had awoken, screamed and quickly bled to death before everyone's horrified eyes…

"#No more earthquake worries would be a good thing,#" Cuarzo said finally. "#And we must find potential mates for Galena…#"

Further discussion of the matter was set aside for a while, so the human parents could deal with the children's squabbling over what game they and Galena would play next. Rosa sternly put an end to all the play, pointing out that it was now well past bedtime for her two youngest children and nearly bedtime for the rest. "#Into your pajamas and into bed with you all, _ahora_! You have school tomorrow, and I'll not have any of my children falling asleep in class! You can play with Galena tomorrow; there will be plenty of nights for more games.#"

After the children had reluctantly trooped off to bed, Malaquita decisively stood up (though she had to stoop over a bit to prevent her crest-fin from jamming into the ceiling) and said, "#The night is still young for us, but the hours glide swiftly, and I want to at least make the first attempt to find this new clan before dawn comes.#"

Lorenzo and Rosa were a bit disappointed, but understood their reasoning, and in truth the two of them would have to retire to bed soon as well. They made arrangements for the gargoyles and Carlos to sneak in through the window to the fire escape, which would be left unlatched for them, and Rosa brought out a pile of blankets and a pillow for Carlos to use, to make himself comfortable on the couch once they returned. Lorenzo handed Carlos a foldout map of Manhattan and a penlight, and urged them all to be back before four a.m., to be sure of avoiding detection by other building residents. "#And we've a few children's books written in Spanish, for Galena to enjoy while she waits for you to return,#" Rosa said with a brief smile for the hatchling as she stood up to fetch them. "#I think they're in Isabel's room; I'll be just a few moments…#"

"#You mean, I have to _stay here_?#" Galena interrupted with dismay.

Everyone looked at her in surprise; they had assumed it was obvious, so obvious that it hadn't needed saying. Malaquita said gently, "#_Muchacha_, after we find and talk with the clan, you may come along to their home… but tonight you must stay here. Be an obedient daughter…#"

"B-but… _Why_!#" Galena's dismay was becoming tinged with indignation. "#I'm a good glider now; you said so yourself after I flew the whole testing course eight times in a row and didn't mess up once! I can keep up, I promise!#"

"#_Galena_!#" Malaquita snarled at her daughter's impudence, not only to her mother but to their remnant clan's leader. But Cuarzo raised a hand to stay further rebuke, and instead kneeled down to look Galena in the eye as he said softly, "#Child, there is a danger that you do not know of… one that we found out ourselves only tonight. There are bad humans in this town, humans who hate gargoyles and try to kill them as soon as they see them! They are called 'Quarrymen,' and they are as bad as the conquistadors were, possibly even worse! These insane killers may be out hunting tonight, and we do not want to expose you to danger.#"

At the news of the killing humans, Galena's eyes went wide and she went silent for a moment. Then she squared her shoulders and said, "#Am I to remain in hiding all my life, then? Mama, you told me how when you were my age you were already exploring the outer limits of our clan territory…#"

"#Yes, and my clan leader had me punished for it as well! In the old clan, you'd still be sleeping in the rookery every day… and sweeping it every night for a week, for your impertinence!#" Malaquita growled.

But shy little Galena refused to back down. "#You told me last night that we had gone over 3,000 miles from our old home… and tonight we are even farther away! And we have stayed together for all this time, all this far… _Please_ don't leave me behind now!#"

Her impassioned plea gave everyone pause to consider. Finally Cuarzo turned to Malaquita and said quietly, "#We can make it a short search tonight, staying high and just getting a general idea of the most likely areas for further investigation later. But she is right, we've come so far together…#"

"#We might as well see if we can finish it together,#" Malaquita sighed. "#All right, Galena, _for tonight only_ you may glide with us as we search. But you will stay between your father and me at all times, and as soon as you start to tire we will turn back. And if we do not find them tonight, on future nights you will stay here and learn English while we explore. Is that clear?#"

It was quite clear, and after that they made swift arrangements for departure. Rosa made up a basket of food for them to eat while searching, that Cuarzo would carry while Malaquita carried Carlos. While going over the map one last time with Carlos, Lorenzo looked out of the corner of his eye and had to stifle a smile at the sight of Galena putting her rag doll Carlotta on the couch, and promising it solemnly that they would be back before dawn. Then there was nothing left but to wish the search party success as they went out through the window, and hope that they found New York's gargoyles… and that New York's gargoyle hunters didn't find them.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

"((Ten more minutes of this, and I shall forgo all courtesy and discretion, and begin punching and clawing a hole through to the outside,))" Yama whispered grimly, though his voice was somewhat muffled by the heavy drapings of a woolen overcoat. Standing next to him in the closet, Hiroshi heartily agreed with the sentiment. This was absolutely intolerable!

Even with the presence of Manekineko, which seemed to allay most of Mrs. Gregarino's fears (although the presence of the cat had nearly the opposite effect on her husband), it had taken nearly ten minutes for them to convince the elder Greagarinos of Yama's non-hostile intentions. But once they had understood that the intention was to _remove_ the other gargoyles from an environment that was proving hostile, Mr. Gregarino was all for it, and even offered to help them rent a storage facility on the docks for the gargoyles to sleep in until shipment to Japan. "I can do 'live and let live,' so long as they don't live around here," was his rather obnoxious opinion, but at least that was better than attacking them.

Once they'd made sure that Yama could continue to sleep in the garage until he found the new clan, Yama was ready to begin the search, but just as he was getting up to do so the front doorbell had rung. Mrs. Gregarino had instantly gone into a fluster, and rushed Yama, Hiroshi and the cat all into the hall closet before they could make the more sensible suggestion of simply grabbing their equipment and slipping out the back door. They'd been stuck there while she opened the door and greeted the newcomer, who was evidently a neighbor seeking a friendly shoulder to cry on after a fight with her husband… and Mrs. Gregarino had offered to make tea for the neighbor! That was somewhat understandable, but after the tea had been drunk and the neighbor was just about to leave, her husband had come over to publicly apologize and beg forgiveness for his bullheadedness, which had touched Mrs. Gregarino so greatly that she had invited them both to stay for dinner! Great Buddha, had that _baka, boke _woman actually forgotten she had a gargoyle in her closet! Or was this just her way of punishing them all for her earlier fright? By Hiroshi's watch, they had been crammed into this painfully small space for nearly three hours now…

Abruptly, Yama gave a snort that Hiroshi recognized as suppressed laughter. "((What is it?))" he hissed.

"((Manekineko has just expressed her displeasure and impatience too… by peeing right into a set of fancy shoes,))" Yama whispered back with a wicked grin gleaming in the gloom. "((I think our hostess will find them quite ruined. But I would like to get out of here before the smell gets any stronger…))"

And finally, the kami heard them; the neighbors said goodbye as they went out the door barely a minute later, and Vinnie opened up the closet door for them with an apologetic expression on his face. "Sorry about that, honest; I tried to remind Mom about you guys without actually giving you away, but once she and Mrs. Henderson get to talking, it takes an act of God to make them shut up and listen to anyone else! Listen, Yama, you'd better grab your stuff and slip out the back door before Mrs. Henderson comes back to pick up whatever it was she forgot; she always forgets _something_, and we're never really sure we've gotten rid of her until at least midnight! Hiroshi, you can hang out with me in my old room, they still have a little TV in there… (sniff) What's that smell? Oh jeez, don't tell me that cat went and--"

Yama ignored the last querying complaint, and hurried out the back door after a quick detour to the garage to pick up his remaining equipment. Once he was in the air and safely away, he pulled out one half of a walkie-talkie radio set and spoke into it. "((Hiroshi, can you hear me?))"

"((Loud and clear,))" Hiroshi assured him from his end of the set. "((Good hunting, Yama…))"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

At the same time that the Mexican clan, and the somewhat reluctant ambassador from the Japanese clan, were taking to the air, another winged shape was also rising into Manhattan's night sky. Not from Castle Wyvern, still under siege by the Quarrymen and waiting to discover whether Broadway would survive the night, but from farther north on the island of Manhattan; from an old and stately mansion that most of humanity had no idea was owned and inhabited by a gargoyle.

It had been a full ten hours since Macbeth had called Dominique Destine and told her to sober up. Not that she'd done so right away, of course; she'd still had two bottles of rum and a bottle of whiskey to finish off, once she'd been able to stagger upright and into the kitchen. But after drinking all the supplies left in the house, she hadn't ordered any more from the liquor store, and now, thanks to the healing component built into the Weird Sisters' immortality spell, less than three hours after finishing off the last bottle she was almost completely sober.

Sober enough to be staggered once more by shame… Shame over how many years—centuries!—she'd been trying to exterminate humanity, when all along there had been good people among them like the P.I.T. Shame over how she'd been projecting her own self-loathing and all the blame onto humans, instead of admitting that the massacre that had killed her first clan was at least partly **_her_** fault. Shame at how stubbornly blind and deaf to the truth she'd been, despite all the times Goliath, Angela and by the Dragon above, _even the Weird Sisters_ had shoved the facts into her face. And shame that, when just a few words overheard from a college student had blindsided her into the realization that **_she_** was her own worst enemy, she'd crawled right into the nearest liquor bottle for the comfort of oblivion. And if Macbeth hadn't called her that morning, she'd probably still be there…

There was no way to atone for everything she'd done, all the humans she'd murdered over the centuries; the only honorable thing, if one so despicable as herself could even lay claim to any sort of honor, would be to kill herself immediately. But she was immortal; only Macbeth could kill her… Or she could kill Macbeth, which would have the same effect. But not too long after realizing the truth of what the college students were saying, the voices of the Weird Sisters had surfaced from the recesses of repressed memory, reminding her of how she had betrayed Macbeth; at the time she'd justified it as doing unto him before he could do unto her, but after all these years and encounters with him, she knew he was truly an honorable man. Macbeth would never have betrayed her clan; at worst, he'd have formally severed his alliance with them, but given them plenty of time to leave and find new territory before the English came in. And she would have realized that at the time, if she hadn't persisted on seeing him as just another untrustworthy human… No, she'd already hurt him as badly as he could be hurt, costing him not only his kingdom, but also ultimately his wife and son… and now, she truly didn't want to hurt him any further.

But would it really be hurting him to just end it all in death? After all, he'd been hunting her for centuries, and she'd heard him say more than once that killing her would be his last great pleasure, that he had grown tired of living. But she'd gone through periods like that, too, black periods after the death of yet another clan during which she only wanted to die, to have an end to the pain. And those bouts of utter despair had always passed before she'd found Macbeth (except for that one time in Paris during the Terror, just after Valjean and his clan had been murdered… and after he'd crippled her in battle, but run off with those humans while she was recovering instead of staying to finish her off, she'd decided to live a while longer after all…)

The easiest course of action would be to let Macbeth decide. She was almost sober now, having traversed over half the length of the island in her wandering flight, done solely to clear the last cobwebs from her brain. She'd be completely sober by the time she returned home. When she returned, she would call Macbeth at his home, where he lived under the name of Lennox Macduff, and give him her address. If he was ready to end it all, he'd come, and he'd find her waiting in the foyer, ready for the final blow…

No. That didn't seem right. It… it just wasn't the way! She just couldn't sit there and wait dully for the sword's stroke, or a blast from a laser pistol. Whether warrior or coward, whether fighting or fleeing from a conflict or a painful truth, Demona had never just sat back and waited for someone else to take action. Even after a thousand years of living, she couldn't do so now… it just wasn't what she was!

So what should she do? Perhaps… perhaps a final battle to the death? A deliberately chosen battle, far from possible interference; winner would have the satisfaction of seeing the lifelight dying from the other's eyes, an instant before it faded from his/her own. And she would hold herself back just enough to ensure that Macbeth, who certainly deserved it, received that final satisfaction…

Demona's musings were abruptly cut short as movement caught her peripheral vision; movement at her level of gliding, over two hundred feet up…

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Some distance away, a Bell 412EP helicopter, painted dark blue and sporting a few modifications that were not normally found on commercial helicopters, circled the Aerie Building for the umpteen thousandth time (a rough estimate given by the youngest member of the crew aboard.)

"C'mon, dammit, do something," the helicopter's copilot muttered under his breath as he looked out his window at the medieval castle that graced the top of the building. The crew they had relieved over an hour ago had reported that the gargoyles had been perched on the battlements at sunset, but had gone inside immediately after waking up, and hadn't poked their heads out since. Their leader Mr. Castaway had assured them that they'd see action tonight, unlike last night, but so far… nothing.

"Remind me again why we can't just flush 'em out with a potshot or two?" their weapons officer grumbled aloud, while lightly patting the controls of his weapons console. The helicopter had been fitted with twin M60C machine guns mounted on the skids, as well as two of Kreuzung Technology's special electrified-net launchers mounted on the underbelly, but none of the weapons had been used yet, despite all the flight hours logged last night as well as tonight.

"One, shooting the castle instead of the gargoyles would be assault and vandalism, and Xanatos would have the goddamn police up here with us before the first gargoyle poked his head out," the pilot said tersely, while eyeing his gas gauge; in another half-hour or so, they'd need to leave for refueling, while the other Quarryman helicopter took over the vigil. "Two, and the main reason we're flying the perimeter this far out instead of a lot closer, is that last time anyone attacked the castle directly, we lost both aircraft and nearly all the personnel aboard. I don't know about you guys, but I'm not in the mood for vanishing without a trace tonight. So we stay out here, right on the legal limit for proximity harassment, and we wait for the gargoyles to come to us. Castaway said he had an agitator on the inside that would almost guarantee us some action tonight, so just sit back, wait for it… and in the meantime, the next asshole that starts singing "99 Bottles of Beer" is going to be pitched outside and used for target practice, okay?"

"Got it," and other grumblings of assent came back, before the helicopter's interior went silent again… But only for a few seconds, before the VHF radio squawked to life. "_Quarry HQ, this is Hovercycle One; I've got a target! Repeat, I have a confirmed target! Heading eastbound over 143rd off Broadway; gargoyle at two o'clock low! I am engaging in pursuit_!"

The craft's interior resounded with exclamations and curses, of excitement and envy that someone else was getting some action tonight. The general consensus was "Screw this; let's go give him a hand!"

"Negative!" the pilot snarled, his hand firm on the control stick. "We stay at our post until HQ tells us to break off and assist! It wouldn't be the first time one of those hotshot cycle-heads thought he saw a gargoyle, and it turned out to be somebody's laundry flapping in the breeze…"

But a split-second after he said that, The radio sounded again, this time with a different voice raised in excitement. "_Quarry HQ, this is Hovercycle Two! I have a target—no, wait, two targets! Repeat, I have visual on two gargoyles! They just crossed FDR Drive and are headed west-northwest, just north of Houston Street! I am engaging in pursuit_!"

This time the pilot swore aloud, and reached for the radio control to call in. But just before he touched the button to transmit, they heard "_Quarry HQ, Hovercycle Three requests permission to join Two in the hunt_!"

"_Roger that. HV3 to join HV2 in southeast quadrant_," came the swift reply fr5om headquarters. "_Helo 3, break off castle detail and join HV1 in northwest quadrant, assist HV1 in pursuit_."

"HV1! But they're only chasing one garg!" The weapons officer complained as the helicopter abruptly pulled away from the castle and picked up speed.

"Did you wanna keep playing Ring-Around-the-Rosy instead?" the copilot snarled back at him, while the pilot confirmed their new orders with HQ. "Any action is better than none!" as the helicopter sped farther north.

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"#That had to be FDR Drive we crossed back there, and if that street to our left is Houston Street, then the Aerie Building where that billionaire lives is going to be north-by-northwest of us,#" Carlos said as he briefly examined his map with a penlight, while cradled in Malaquita's strong arms. "#About eight—no, nine kilometers away; call it ten, to be on the safe side.#"

"#We'll stop for a brief rest just short of there, for Galena's sake,#" Malaquita muttered with a glance back over her wings at Galena, who was gliding between her parents, almost in Malaquita's wake. "#And if the clan isn't living in that castle after all, we'll try the--#" But her voice cut off at Cuarzo's cry of pain, at the same time as the unmistakable sound of a pistol shot reached her ears. "_Cuarzo_!"

"#Shot! Left wing!#" Cuarzo gasped, desperately maneuvering to stay aloft while looking around him for their attacker. "#Who—where--#"

"#There!#" Malaquita snarled, looking almost directly behind them. "#Some sort of flying one-man vehicle!#" She cursed inside her skull in blistering terms; they had been listening for sounds of helicopters, but hadn't even imagined that these Quarrymen would have smaller and quieter vehicles in the air… "#_Evasive Action Three_! Galena, stay with me!#" as she abruptly folded her wings and dropped like a stone.

Galena was screaming in terror, but folded her wings and followed her mother down instead of fluttering about in a panic. His flight was somewhat shaky due to the hole and the undoubted agony in his left wing, but as they had rehearsed many times before, Cuarzo arced up and away from them; his pale hide made him a much more visible target, to draw fire away from their precious daughter. Malaquita let herself fall nearly forty meters before screaming, "#Now, _up_!#" as she snapped her wings out and pulled out of the dive while turning towards the north. To her credit, Galena matched her mother perfectly, with scarcely a waver; she really was an exceptional glider for one so young. "#Follow _under_; listen for my signals!#" Malaquita commanded, pulling up and back just enough for Galena to pass under her, then stay below her in flight. It wasn't what they had practiced, back in Mexico, but back then they had been anticipating gunfire and arrows from below, not from another flyer…

"#Put me down on that roof, so you can fight!#" Carlos urged, pointing at the roof to a warehouse nearby.

"#Prepare for a rough landing,#" Malaquita said grimly as she angled towards the building. Once she was directly over the warehouse, in a low glide scarcely two meters over the roof, she opened her arms and let Carlos drop. He hit the rooftop in a tumbling roll, but scrambled upright quickly as she and Galena arced away.

Malaquita silently cursed again as she looked desperately about for a secluded spot, someplace she could hide Galena in safety while she went back to help her mate. There was nothing but open rooftops in every direction, with no outcroppings big enough to offer safe shadows, and if that hovercraft was as maneuverable as they were, dodging down into the alleys could work against them instead of for them. But she had to— And there was a sudden impact in her right wing and blazing pain, and suddenly she was falling out of the sky, right onto her daughter! But she flipped herself away just before hitting Galena, to tumble down with her right wing flapping uselessly after a bullet had shattered the primary strut, and fell heavily onto the edge of a roof.

"#_Mama_!_ Mama, get up_!#" was the next thing she heard, and she opened her eyes to find Galena next to her and tugging frantically on her arm, while Carlos was sprinting up to them across the vast rooftop.

"#Galena, get back in the air! You have to run, to—**_No_**!#" as she spotted another hovercraft approaching them, from an entirely new direction. _Two_ predators in the air, armed with distance weapons… She cursed aloud that time, then snarled as she reached down and dug into the rooftop, "#Carlos, guard Galena; get over to that low wall there and stay between her and these stinking dogs!#" With a final snarl of pain, she pulled up two handfuls of bitumen and mixed roofing materials, then stood upright, drew back her right arm and let fly. Two more bullets hit her in her left arm and shoulder, but she had the satisfaction of seeing that fist-sized hunk of roof hit the other hovercraft rider, making him drop his weapon with a cry of pain. Without his gun, he'd have to come a lot closer to kill her, she thought grimly as she staggered and fought to stay on her feet despite the agony. And if he came within reach of her talons, she'd rip his throat out before he ever caught a glimpse of her daughter…

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"_HV3, this is HV2! I've got one that's wounded, flying slow, but the other one's running away, headed in your direction! Do you see it yet_?"

"_Not yet—now I do! Looks like it's got—shit, it's carrying somebody! It's got a hostage, repeat, a hostage! Moving to intercept—wait, it's dropping the hostage onto a roof! And pulling up, I'll have a clear shot in—Got it! That winged it for—sunovabitch, there's another one! A lot smaller, possibly juvenile; it was gliding under the bigger one! The smaller one's still up, but—no, it's following its parent down; they're both grounded on a rooftop_!"

"_HV2 is still in pursuit; my target is still flying—we're headed in your direction now_!"

"_I'm going to--Aaaggh! …HV2, HV3 has been hit—I've lost my weapon_!"

"_HV2 and 3, this is Van Team 1! We're on our way down Houston now; ETA five minutes! Save some gargs for us_!"

The helicopter crew heard the other team's chatter on the radio, while assisting Hovercycle One in trying to locate his target; forty-five seconds before the helicopter had arrived on scene, the gargoyle he'd been chasing had managed to disappear into a blind alley. But the hovercycle rider was positive he'd wounded it with his third shot, shortly before it had dropped out of sight; now they just had to find it and finish it off…

"Fuck this; it's holed up somewhere out of sight," the copilot snarled after peering fruitlessly through his night-vision goggles one last time. "Just let it die there, while we go join the other teams and bag us a gargoyle!"

"Y'know what? When you're right, you're right," the pilot growled, while pulling up on the control stick to gain altitude. "HV1 and Quarry HQ, this target is a no-go; Helo One is going to southeast quadrant to join the hunt there…"

Quarry HQ squawked that they were supposed to wait for orders, instead of taking the initiative, but the radio operator's voice was abruptly drown out by another cry: "_HV3 reports that HV2 is down! Repeat, HV2 is down! Another gargoyle has joined the fight, and it just knocked him right out of the sky! That monster_…"

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"**_Rraaahhh_!**" Demona snarled with savage joy as she ripped a talon through the hovercycle rider's neck, making sure of her kill before she let him drop to the pavement far below. The riderless hovercycle careened wildly on for a few moments, before crashing into the wall of a building nearby. Turning her face from the resulting explosion, she spotted the wounded gargoyle that the Quarryman had been pursuing; he banked slowly and painfully in her direction, waving as he too spotted her, then angled off towards the north.

Demona followed the stranger, reflecting with a savage smile that it was a damn good thing she'd been out for a glide to clear her thoughts, instead of waiting at home for Macbeth; she'd needed a reminder that there were still some humans worth killing! She caught up to the pale-skinned and wounded stranger, who turned to call out a greeting to her… but instead, his eyes unfocused and fluttered, and he started to fall out of the sky. "No! _Hold on_—_I've got you_!" as Demona swooped in and caught him. "You're going to be all right now," she assured him breathlessly, almost giddy with relief and joy at having, at long last, truly _saved_ another of her kind!

"_M-__mi hija, mi esposa_," the gargoyle gasped, struggling to stay conscious despite the wounds in his left wing and torso, all bleeding copiously. "_Rescátelos_…"

Demona stared at him in astonishment, trying to dredge up long-forgotten memories of Spanish that she had spoken while wandering through Spain centuries ago. His… daughter? …and mate? By the Dragon, he wasn't just a lone wanderer; he had a _clan_ here with him, and the Quarrymen were hunting them all! She gained altitude with the stranger in her arms, then looked around frantically. Where were the others! Where were—there! To the north, where the stranger had been heading before succumbing to his wounds! Those shapes clustered on a rooftop had to be his family… And there was another hovercycle nearby!

Demona snarled and put on full speed, working her wings as fast as she could, focused on the scene before her. One enemy on the hovercycle, but another was already on the roof, running up to another gargoyle as she collapsed where she stood. That human was grabbing her, going to finish her off before Demona could get there! …Wait, he was… flashing a knife at the hovercycle? Warning it from approaching closer, while dragging the wounded female farther away—oh Dragon, there was a hatchling! Running out from cover behind a low wall to help drag the wounded female back there… And the hovercycle was just hovering there! He must have lost his gun, and knew that if he tried to close for hand-to-hand combat even the hatchling might be able to kill him. But he was still talking into his headset… Demona couldn't hear what he was saying; the wind was in the wrong direction. But she had a sinking feeling that he was reporting their position and actions. And that awful hunch was confirmed, when she saw a Quarrymen van pulling up in the alley below her.

Why, oh _why_ had she gone for a glide without her favorite laser rifle! Demona cursed herself as she swooped in to land beside the hatchling, human and wounded female. "Any weapons?" she asked the human tersely as she set the wounded male down next to the female, hoping against hope that this human had something besides his knife, and moreover, that he understood her.

Fortunately, he understood her, but there her luck ended. He shook his head and said in heavily accented English, "Just my knife; no better than talons," as he glanced fearfully at the hovercycle rider above them and to the right.

A knife could be thrown, but that was good only against one enemy, and they had many more than that approaching from below. "Then we'll have to improvise," Demona said grimly, and crouched down to grip both hands into the roof they were standing on. She ripped up two handfuls of roofing material, then stood up again, but saw the remaining hovercycle shy away like a startled horse before she could take aim at him. Hah, that must be how he'd lost his weapon before! But she had no more time to think about the rider; there was a _whoosh_ and a _thunk_! and she turned around to see a grapnel embedded in the edge of the roof. The damned Quarrymen had grapnel guns, and those below were making their way up…

Not while she still had talons to wield! Demona gave a feral grin, tossed one of her handfuls of roof at the hovercraft to make the rider back away further, then went swiftly over to the edge of the roof and the grapnel line. She waited a moment to be sure it was jerking from being tugged on, not just from the wind; waited until she was sure some foolish human had put his weight on it and was trying to climb. Then she simply reached out and cut the line with one swift slash, and had the satisfaction of hearing yells from down below as the climber tumbled back to earth. Pity he probably hadn't climbed up far enough for the fall to have killed him, but with that damnable hovercycle rider reporting their every move, the climber would probably have been warned about her before he'd gone much farther.

Whoosh thunk! Another grapnel! Demona stared in disbelief at the hook that had embedded itself in the roof not ten feet away from the first one. Did those idiot humans think her claws were only good for one blow per night? Or perhaps they were just so fired up with adrenaline that any sense had flown right out of their heads; she mentally shrugged as she slashed through that line too. As well as the one that ended up embedded right next to it, and the grapnel line that came after that…

And only then did it occur to her that this might well be merely a distraction. Occupying her attention, keeping her from looking at other means of access to the roof… she swore aloud and turned around, just in time to witness the roof's main access door being blown off its hinges with a shaped charge. And even as the smoke cleared, a horde of hammer-wielding Quarrymen came charging through.

By that time, the adult gargoyles had both recovered consciousness, and they managed to stagger to their feet in defense of their hatchling, but as wounded as they were, they went down at the first electrified hammer swings. Demona found herself in the incredible position of fighting with a human at her side, both of them trying to protect the hatchling cowering behind them. He screamed threats in Spanish and slashed his knife at anyone who came within range on his side, while Demona was a whirling dervish of fighting fury, lashing out with talons, tail and wings; using every move of grounded unarmed combat that she had learned in over a thousand years of fighting to keep those deadly hammers at a distance. But a single desperately slashing knife and an unarmed gargoyle would last only so long against nearly a dozen armed men, particularly when for every one she took out, another came running up to take his place. Even the hovercycle rider came in to land some distance away, grabbed a hammer from a fallen comrade and waded in to swing it enthusiastically.

Working together, Demona and the human managed to take out five men; and if she'd had time to do so, Demona would have laughed at how two more Quarrymen were taken out by "friendly fire", misaimed or overenthusiastic swings from their fellow slayers. But there were just too many of them… The human defender went down first, screaming and spasming as a hammer blow knocked away his knife, shocked him senseless and probably shattered the bones in his hand. Demona managed to stay up a few seconds longer, but the second electrified slam that got through her defenses knocked her off her feet, exposing the hatchling to view. She tried to get up, but spasming aftershocks prevented her from controlling her limbs, and she could only roll over and stare with horror as the lead Quarryman advanced on the hatchling whimpering "_Mam_a!" He raised his hammer high for the final swing…

But the blow never fell. Because even as the Quarryman wound up for his swing, from above the group and to the left was coming a high-pitched roaring… A sound that became an even higher-pitched screech as it became louder, very quickly, and Demona barely had time to realize that she was hearing how the Doppler Effect transforms a gargoyle's roar before the rooftop scene was bisected by a flash of dark gray coming from high on the left, a figure flying past so fast it was a blur even to Demona's eyes.

The dark gray blur flew right past the Quarryman, who jerked violently in that momentary pause that came at the top of his swing. And then the hammer fell… along with the arms holding it. And the head, and shoulders; the entire upper third of the Quarryman's body fell off to the right side, while the rest of his body crumpled where he had been standing. The hatchling stared dumbly at the bisected corpse as it sprawled at her feet in splashes of crimson staining the roof and the dark blue clothing, too stunned to even scream.

The dark gray blur wheeled and turned, resolving itself into a gray male gargoyle. Dressed in clothing of a very dark gray and vaguely Oriental in style, and wielding a pair of swords. The longer sword (a katana?) flashed silver and red, stained with the blood of the Quarryman that had just been slain, as the male faced the remaining Quarrymen and snarled, "_Watashi wa Ishimura ikka no Yama desu! Watashi wa anata ni tatakai wo idomimasu!_"

Demona stared at the newcomer, utterly astounded. A gargoyle dressed as a… a ninja? But not acting like one; from her time in Japan centuries ago, Demona knew that ninjas struck from the shadows and retreated just as quickly and silently. They did not stand out in the open and scream defiance at their opponents with a katana in one hand and a wakizashi in the other; that was more the style of a samurai. But the only known samurai gargoyle clan had died out over 150 years ago; those cursed Hunters had slaughtered the entire clan … Hadn't they? Had a few of them escaped the slaughter, much like a handful of the Wyvern clan had? …And why was she wasting time wondering, when this fool was about to get himself _killed_, challenging a squad of armed Quarrymen with nothing but a pair of swords! She inwardly snarled at her body and the magical spell she'd been under for centuries to work _faster_, curse it; to heal _right now_, so she could get back on her feet and fight again!

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"((I am Yama of Ishimura Clan! I challenge you all to combat!))" Yama roared at the _Kawarimen_ facing him, issuing the formal challenge that Bushido demanded of a samurai before engaging in combat… even while a part of him wondered why he was bothering, since he'd already killed one of their number in defense of the hatchling. If that wasn't an adequate declaration of intent to fight to the death if necessary…

Then there was no more time for unnecessary thought, as his opponents overcame their surprise at his sudden arrival and charged him, hammers high and ready to swing. Yama quickly sheathed his wakizashi while coiling his powerful leg muscles, then leaped high into the air, while grabbing for his next weapon from where it had been tucked inside his _obi_. He flung it out with a hard flick of his wrist at the top of his leap, and the weighted net unfolded as it spun out, over the first two _Kawarimen_ in the charge. And just as he'd designed it to do, the fine copper wires woven into the mesh of the net conducted the charges from their hammers all over its span, dissipating the charges while shocking the wielders. Hah, Vinnie had been right! The _Kawarimen's_ bodysuits might be made of insulated material, but their hoods were ordinary cloth, and a sufficiently large charge would penetrate right through them! He so loved being able to turn an opponent's own weapon against him!

But there had only been enough time to have two such nets made before coming to America, and now he'd lost the element of surprise; while seeing two of their comrades shout and fall in front of them had made the others draw back for a moment, one of their number snarled a command at the rest and they all did something to the shafts of their hammers, turning off the charges. Even depowered, they were still dangerous… But only if they got close enough to use them. Yama gave a savage grin as he reached into his right forearm guard, and flung what had been stashed there into the midst of his foes. Another of them screamed as the _shuriken_ spun out and sank with a meaty _thunk_ right into his wrist, and dropped his hammer—right on his own foot! And one more was taken out of combat.

But that left six more to take down, and quickly, before they realized that Yama was deliberately baiting them away from the poor hatchling, who was now crouching beside a wounded adult instead of taking flight away from danger.

But another one of the gargoyles, the one he'd seen go down just before his arrival, was starting to get up! Yama tossed more throwing stars, keeping the _Kawarimen_ focused on him while inflicting more wounds on them, all the while praying that the blue female still had some fight left in her…

…_Oh_!

The wet thud as a _Kawarimen_'s body hit the rooftop—while his head landed several feet away—and the savage roar as the female leaped at another _Kawarimen_ from behind, left no doubt in anyone's mind that this female did indeed still have some fight left in her.

Faced with Yama's weapons and the blue female's sheer savagery, the rest of the pack wavered, seemingly on the verge of running… but the sound of a helicopter's blades, coming from behind him, thundered closer and closer and suddenly an amplified voice boomed out of the sky, "_Let us handle this! **Take cover**_!"

The Kawarimen suddenly scattered like frightened rabbits, bolting for the rooftop door. But forewarned, Yama and the female dodged for cover as well, even as a dark blue helicopter came in low and angled around, trying for a clear shot at them. Machine guns snarled and spat death at them, and a trail of deadly divots in the rooftop followed Yama as he desperately ran for the edge of the roof and open air. But at least the helicopter had chosen him as a target, instead of the female…

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"Get down! _Play dead_!" Demona snarled at the hatchling, and physically pushed her down to the rooftop when words in English weren't enough. Then she grabbed a Quarryhammer from one of the men she'd killed, ran for the rooftop's edge and sprang into the air. Those Quarrymen in the helicopter were chasing after the Japanese gargoyle instead of focusing on her, either because he had visible weapons or because, like so many foolish humans, they thought a female was naturally less of a threat. She'd be happy to show them the fatal errors of their ways!

The Japanese gargoyle was jinking left and right, up and down, pulling some remarkable aerobatics while dodging the deadly gunfire. Coming up from behind, Demona arced up and over, gaining some altitude over the helicopter, while quickly figuring out how to turn on the Quarryhammer. Then she said with a savage grin, even though no one could hear her, "I think this belongs to you!" And she threw the electrically charged hammer straight into the helicopter's blades.

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Yama was dodging wildly in every direction, keeping his flight path as erratic as possible at top speed, and offering up prayers to anyone he could think of to lend more strength to his wings and keep those deadly machine guns missing their mark. Suddenly he heard from behind him a sudden change in the rhythm of the helicopter's thundering blades. He risked a quick look behind him, to see the helicopter suddenly careening wildly to the left, and pulling up barely in time to avoid smashing into the wall of another warehouse. But as it rose, it continued to tip to the side, until the main rotor smashed into the rooftop with a horrible **_WHUNCH_**!

The force and angle of the impact whipped the entire helicopter into a lethal cartwheel. It tumbled sideways across the roof, shedding pieces of fuselage and rotor blades in all directions with terrifying speed; Yama barely dodged one such deadly shard, then watched in shock as another one went zinging right into one of the Quarrymen that had remained on the roof instead of running, to watch the aerial battle. The shard of composite material sliced the man completely in half, even more messily than Yama's blade had done to his comrade earlier. The helicopter finished its wild tumble across the roof by falling off the nearest edge, to crash into the alley below and burst into a fireball upon impact.

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Demona at first grinned at the results of her handiwork, then shrieked in fear as she realized that some of those shards of helicopter rotor blades were ripping up the rooftop where lay the wounded gargoyles and the hatchling! But thank the Dragon, all the shards missed the gargoyles laying flat, and instead killed another of the Quarrymen for her. That left only two Quarrymen still standing on the roof… and now that she was airborne again, they would be easy prey.

The Quarrymen saw her coming for them, and realized her deadly intent; the closer of them turned and began running, bolting for the roof access door. "Oh no you don't, scum!" Demona snarled, and put on an extra burst of speed, to catch up to him and grab him by the back of his insulated jacket. Then she simply continued gliding, hauling him off his feet by sheer momentum and dragging him off the roof. She let go after she passed the edge, and heard his fast-fading scream with satisfaction as she wheeled around to deal with the last one.

The last Quarryman saw the fate of his comrade, and decided to make a last stand instead of running. He held his hammer poised and ready, crackling with electricity, and snarled at her, "You want me, bitch, you come and get me!"

Demona had really had enough of being shocked by those hammers. She landed and circled him warily, and the Quarryman circled as well, staying in one place but always facing her… which was exactly what she wanted. Once she came to it, she reached down to the rooftop and plucked out a shard of rotor blade that had embedded itself in the gravel there. Hissing a bit with the pain—it was still scorching hot from the friction of its wild flight and impact—she quickly stood up again, to give him a last savage grin as she threw the shard at him with all her power. The Quarryman tried to block it with his hammer, but he wasn't fast enough; the shard flew across the space between them and sank into his throat, nearly severing his head from his shoulders. He went over backwards, with blood coming out of his neck in a crimson fountain for a few seconds before slowing to a final trickle.

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Yama had instinctively followed the helicopter's final flight path across the roof and down to the alley floor, drawn by the panicked screams coming from the men inside. They had been trying to kill him mere moments ago, but now they were just people in deadly danger, and his instincts urged him to help them just as he'd help a hatchling that had been caught up in a whirlwind, spinning out of control. But he was forced to pull away from the explosion, as the helicopter hit the ground and its fuel tanks burst into a fireball. He hovered there helplessly, unable to get closer because of the flames, but still hearing the screams of the men inside… Until the screams finally stopped.

_Ju ban kami_, the **_hatchling_**! How could he have forgotten there was a child in danger back on that rooftop! Yama cursed himself for a dozen different kinds of idiot as he wheeled and sped back to the roof, praying that his accursed distraction with the helicopter hadn't left the hatchling and the sole standing adult, that blue female, in danger from the remaining Quarrymen…

But when he got there, he saw that no Quarrymen were left standing. There was just the blue female, shaking out and blowing on her hand as she went over to the crying hatchling, then kneeling beside her to say comfortingly, "There, there… no one will hurt you now, you're safe…"

But the hatchling refused to be comforted. "_Mama_!_ Papa_!" she cried, pointing to the two wounded adults. Yama landed next to them, then whipped out his walkie-talkie and turned it on. "((Hiroshi, can you hear me?))"

"((I can hear you, Yama,))" Hiroshi's voice issued forth. "((Is all well?))"

"((All is **_not_** well. I found some of the clan, but we've been in a fight with those cursed _Kawarimen_, and two adults and a human ally are down, badly hurt. We need Kado's medical kit as quickly as possible! I think I'm at--))"

"Who are you talking to?" the blue female interrupted him, looking at him oddly.

"((Pardon, just a moment,))" Yama said into his radio, then turned to the blue female and tried to remember the right words in English. The stress of combat, of seeing the wounds that he'd arrived too late to prevent, and of knowing that he had just _killed_ some humans… all that made it hard for him to concentrate on hastily-learned language lessons. "Hiroshi… friend, human… ally. He learn… help… _shimatta_, ((what's the right word!)) …Medicine?"

"((Yama, let me talk to her,))" the radio squawked again, followed by, "I am Hiroshi Fukuda, an ally of Yama's, and I have been given some knowledge of gargoyle anatomy and medicine. I humbly request permission to help. Will you please give me directions to find you?"

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Even after fighting side-by-side with a human before this fellow—Yama?—had appeared, Demona was reluctant to trust these wounded comrades to a human she'd never met, even one that was supposed to be an ally… but she had no choice. She'd never bothered to learn anything but the most basic first aid, since her own wounds healed by themselves due to the enchantment on her, and basic first aid wasn't going to be enough here. These adults had been shot multiple times, not to mention beaten and shocked unconscious… without urgent medical care, it wasn't too likely that they'd survive till dawn. She grabbed the walkie-talkie and said into it, "You can certainly come and help, but we can't stay where we are; all the commotion we made during this battle will draw more damnable hu—_Quarrymen_ down on us soon." She looked around, and made a quick decision. It was reckless, and might cost her dearly, but the lives of these gargoyles mattered more! "Do you have a map of New York? Then go to this address…"

She held the walkie-talkie with one hand and gave directions, while beckoning Yama over and wordlessly showing him how to apply an improvised pressure bandage to the worst wound on the adult female. Then she did the same with the male, beckoning the hatchling over to help; as she'd hoped, being given something helpful to do calmed the crying child down considerably. And after directions had been given, she hurried over to the hovercycle, still parked on a corner of the roof where the now-deceased rider had left it.

The controls were simple enough, thank the Dragon; it took Demona only two tries to get the thing into the air and control its direction of flight. By that time the human, whose name turned out to be Carlos, had awakened and was cradling his broken hand in pain. He told her the names of the unconscious gargoyles, Malaquita and Cuarzo, then helped to calm the hatchling Galena down further and persuade her to try her wings again. Finally, Demona urged the hovercycle into the air with herself, Carlos and Malaquita aboard, Malaquita being propped up between Demona and Carlos on the thankfully long seat. The hovercycle's engine strained with the heavy load, but rose surely and steadily, and with Galena gliding on one side and Yama, carrying Cuarzo, gliding on the other, Demona headed straight for the Nightstone building, three blocks away.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Miles to the north at that same moment, a more conventional motorcycle was speeding along the Henry Hudson Parkway, crossing the bridge between the Bronx and Manhattan. Marcel LeBeau revved the cycle's engine even higher, while muttering worriedly under his breath. "Dam'fool girl gonna be de deat' of me yet… You betta hang on till I get dere, _cherie_, or I'm gonna…"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

When Dominique Destine had purchased and refurbished the building that became the headquarters for Nightstone, Inc., she had paid a contractor a significant amount of money to remodel the windows of her office suite. Those few executives and secretaries who dared enter her inner sanctum sometimes wondered why she had a window that could be opened from the outside, and widened an area of the ledge that went all around at that level, but no one dared to ask. And right now, with regular working hours having ended some time ago, no one was around to look out a window and see the reason for all the remodeling.

The ledge was wide enough for a gargoyle to land on, but not wide enough for the hovercycle. Setting the 'cycle to hover in place right next to the ledge, Demona had Galena land first and open the window for them all. Then Yama glided inside with his burden, set Cuarzo down, then assisted Demona in getting first Malaquita, then Carlos through the window. After they were inside, Demona took the hovercycle up to the helicopter landing pad on the roof—waste not, want not, and she had a feeling it might come in handy later—then glided down to the office and inside. Then, after directing Yama to use the private washroom to scavenge whatever he could find to help the others, she picked up the phone and called Security at the front desk. "This is Ms. Destine."

"Ms. Destine! H-how did you— I-I'm sorry, Ma'am, I didn't know you were in your office!" the security guard sputtered worriedly. "When did—ah, if I may ask, when did you--"

"That's not important!" Demona cut him off. "What is important is who's coming… very soon, two visitors will come to the building; one of them is named Hiroshi Fukuda, and the other is--" (as her mind blanked on the name; there had been too much occupying her attention at the time) "–well, that doesn't matter! When they arrive, you are to swiftly and personally escort them up to my floor, then give them directions to my office from the elevator---but you yourself are not to come any closer than the elevator! You will return to your post immediately, and keep me alerted as to any others who might show up. Is that clear?"

The security guard assured her it was crystal clear, and Demona hung up to return to tending the wounded gargoyles. Carlos the human was white-faced with pain from his broken hand, but he helped out where he could, and even Galena helped out in cleaning up, carefully washing blood away with a washcloth… and trying not to whimper when more blood welled forth, until more improvised pressure bandages were applied. Holding a bandage in place on Malaquita one-handed, while resting his broken hand in his lap, Carlos said soothing words to Galena in Spanish; Demona couldn't be certain, as her Spanish was horribly inadequate after centuries of disuse, but she thought he was assuring the child that there was a doctor coming who would help her parents, and they would be as healthy as ever come the following sunset. Then he turned to Demona, his face grim. "We come to this city to find more gargoyles… but if there are more of those… those shit-eating sons of pigs," with a quick glance at Galena to be sure she didn't understand his cursing in English, "Then we not stay long. Do you know how many there are? Were enough killed to…" he groped for words, then finished with, "to make them no danger?"

"I'm very sure there are more of them," Demona said grimly. And the few who ran away and survived tonight's battle would tell their comrades and the newspapers a distorted version of what happened, making themselves martyrs and the gargoyles monsters in the process; Demona could almost see the headlines in the papers. She felt a cold, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realized that all the killing she'd done tonight would wash away all the P.I.T.'s efforts at peace and reconciliation with her kind; that the public wouldn't hear their words of compassion when faced with pictures of Quarryman bodies. The city's people would turn even further against gargoyles… including the clan, including her daughter! In defending one child, she'd put her own kin in danger! But what else could they have done? What else could they…

What else could she _still_ do?

The idea had struck her from out of nowhere, and it was such a crazy idea, and very risky, but if it was to work at all she had to go _now_. She stood up and announced to a startled group, "I must go, to take care of something important; with luck, it will hurt the Quarrymen badly and make them lose members. I will be back as soon as I can, and in the meantime, the first person who knocks should be your friend, Yama. Wish me luck…" She reflected as she grabbed a set of padlock keys from her desk, then made a quick phone call to the front desk (to let the guard know that she wouldn't be answering the phone for a while, but her visitors were still to be escorted up as soon as they arrived) that she needed luck in great heaping amounts if she was to pull off this crazy scheme. Luck she didn't deserve, but please, oh Dragon, for her daughter's sake…!

She glided out the window and down to street level, then landed next to a battered dumpster in the alley behind her office building, and hesitantly reached for the lid. It had been a full ten nights…

Ten nights since she had killed two complete strangers, for no other reason than that they had dared to wear costumes that mocked gargoyles while Demona was in town. She had been coming back from a glide when she'd seen them, two young men standing in an alley, wearing green and blue gargoyle costumes. They'd had their heads huddled together and were whispering while looking at a storefront across the way, and so hadn't seen Demona gliding overhead… hadn't seen her notice them, and become enraged that more dirty humans dared to mock her noble race by wearing costumes that vaguely resembled them! They hadn't seen her eyes glow red, hadn't heard the low growl rumbling up from her chest, hadn't seen her unhook her mace from her belt… they'd heard and finally looked up as she'd swooped in with weapon ready, but by then it had been too late for them to do anything but scream.

After she'd killed them both, she'd contemptuously tossed the bodies into the nearest dumpster. And only the next morning, as she'd arrived at her office, had it occurred to her that Nightstone used that dumpster. She really didn't need the police attention, let alone clan attention, that would be apt to arise when the bodies were discovered in a dumpster owned by Nightstone. So she'd grabbed a new padlock from Supply, gone out and locked the dumpster up herself, then ordered a new one to be brought in and placed alongside it that very afternoon. She'd thought that would do as a temporary measure; she'd find a more suitable place for dumping the bodies after she acquired that vial of Ebola virus…

But that weekend she'd found herself being saved by humans, saved by the very people she'd been about to take as hostages, and the next Monday the P.I.T. had shocked her into realizing how wrong she'd been, all those centuries… and she'd been dead drunk from then on, until tonight. Dead drunk, insensible to the world in general and her company's affairs in particular… Were the bodies still in there?

Of course they were, her nose told her as a waft of stench drifted her way; several other unsavory scents were mixed into it, but she could still detect the unmistakable odor of decomposing flesh.

She unlocked the padlock and lifted the lid, and looked in on the pair of bodies sprawled in death atop plastic garbage bags; the decaying faces that still bore the marks of shock, agony and terror at their impending doom. "I'm sorry," she whispered to them, though she knew they couldn't hear her. "I'm so sorry… But now, I need you…"

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A knock sounded on the door to the office Yama and the others were staying in, and they eyed it with some nervousness. If this wasn't who they hoped it was… but Yama dared to raise his voice and call, "Come in," and the door opened to reveal Hiroshi and Vinnie standing there, their arms full of bags and boxes.

Hiroshi bowed a quick greeting to the room in general, then moved swiftly over to where Malaquita and Cuarzo were lying and tore open his box; it was full of medical supplies that had been packed for them by Kado before leaving Ishimura. While Yama had been busy learning English, Hiroshi had been busy learning basic gargoyle anatomy and medicine, everything Kado could teach him in just two weeks; if Yama got into trouble with Quarrymen, they couldn't count on the Manhattan gargoyles being nearby and ready with medical supplies. (Besides, Kado had heard once that those barbarian Western doctors actually used _leeches_ in their work, and he wanted no such foolish practices near any of _his_ clan!)

Vinnie just stood in the doorway and stared at everything for a moment, until Hiroshi pointedly told him that his help would be appreciated. Then he shook himself out of his daze, pitched in and began unpacking bandages, forceps and suture kits. "Sorry I zoned for a moment there," he said apologetically, "but this is really getting unreal… I mean, this is the office of, like, the president of the company, that desk over there probably cost as much as my parents' house, and there are gargoyles bleeding on the carpet…"

"((Where is the one who gave us directions?))" Hiroshi muttered to Yama as he delicately probed the wound in Cuarzo's side, carefully searching for the bullet still lodged there. "((Did she leave for more supplies or food? And which is she, gargoyle or human?))"

"((She's gargoyle,))" Yama said with a small smile on his face despite the tense situation. "((A beautiful blue female, and she didn't say where she was going. I didn't understand all of it, but I think she said that she wanted to do more damage to the _Kawarimen_, by making them lose members…))" Up until then, Yama had refused to contemplate what she'd had in mind. It was far better to just concentrate on saving the badly wounded, on keeping them alive until the sleep of stone could heal their wounds. But now that he'd mentioned it to Hiroshi, Yama found himself reluctantly wondering what that lovely yet lethal female would do… surely she wouldn't actually track down the ones who had fled the scene of battle and slay them from behind? No, she had to have something different in mind. Even though he'd seen how very deadly she could be in battle, when she'd ripped and torn that one man's head clean from his shoulders…

But Yama had done essentially the same thing, only minutes before that…

Hiroshi must have seen something in his face or manner change with the memories, because he paused in his work and asked him quietly, "((Did they lose members already tonight?))"

"_Hai_."

"((…You had a hatchling to defend. Any who would threaten a hatchling, deserve to die nameless and be forgotten,))" Hiroshi said firmly, looking Yama straight in the eye before returning to his task.

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Demona approached the warehouse where the battle had taken place, but landed on a nearby rooftop to survey the scene from afar before approaching further. Those Quarrymen who had been merely knocked or shocked unconscious were now awake and either already gone or leaving; she saw two of them supporting a third one between them as they hobbled towards the door to the roof. But she counted six bodies lying sprawled here and there with their hoods off; presumably their comrades had removed them in order to identify their dead. And there would be one more dead at the base of the warehouse, another dead about five blocks away, and however many were inside the helicopter when it tumbled out of the sky… And Demona was responsible for most of them. She didn't regret killing them—unlike her soft-hearted ex-mate, she'd never have qualms about killing someone who'd been trying to kill another gargoyle, particularly a hatchling—but she dreaded the public outcry that would ensue. Unless her desperate plan worked…

She waited until the last few walking wounded had vanished through the doorway, then glided in and went to work.

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Vinnie freely admitted that when it came to practicing medicine, he wasn't good for much more than holding improvised bandages in place until Hiroshi could apply a proper one. So while holding a rag down onto Malaquita's shoulder wound, he tried to have a conversation with the guy holding a bandage on her wing. "So, what's your name? I'm Vinnie, Vinnie Gregarino."

"Carlos Guevara," the other man said with a quick, painful smile.

"Jeez, your hand's pretty messed up, ain't it?" Vinnie said with a nod towards the hand cradled in Carlos' lap, which looked more purple than pink from bruising, and had at least three fingers clearly broken. "Did the Quarrymen do that?"

"Yes; I had a knife, until one Quarryman dog knocked it from my hand with his…_acotillo eléctrico_; I don't know the English."

Vinnie understood the 'electric' part and mused aloud, "Must've been a Quarryhammer… So you're not from around here? What was that, Spanish?"

"_Si_. I am from Mexico… all four of us from there," as he nodded to the little girl-gargoyle and the two shot-up gargoyles, then gave him their names. "They have no clan left except themselves; all die in earthquakes. My cousin, he lives here in New York, he tells us there are more gargoyles here, so we come. I learn English from SeñorRoberts, an Anglo that visits our village sometimes, so I come with them to translate for them… and to find work for myself, to send money back home."

"You came all this way from Mexico… only to get beat up and shot up when you get here." Vinnie shook his head. "That really sucks, dude."

" 'Suksdude'?"

"Uh, 'sucks' means it's really bad," Vinnie translated, a little embarrassed. "And 'dude' is just, well, a guy…"

Hiroshi had been busy with Cuarzo's wounds, but now that he'd done what he could for the guy-gargoyle he came over to Malaquita's side, looking curiously at Carlos. "Please excuse… Did I hear correctly? You are from Mexico?" And at Carlos' nod, Hiroshi turned around and said something in Japanese to Yama, then turned back to Carlos and said with a wry smile, "Yama and I are from Japan."

"…_Japan_!"

Vinnie just shook his head. "Jeez, it's like 'Gargoyles Grand Central' around here…"

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Farther to the north, Marcel LeBeau was on his motorcycle again, this time heading back north on the Hudson Parkway. And he had a passenger now; someone wearing a motorcycle helmet and a long duster coat that completely covered him/her; between the coat and the helmet, any passersby would not be able to make out any features. Though they might notice that in addition to having arms wrapped around Marcel's waist, the passenger was tightly fastened to him with a pair of bungee cords.

"You just hang on, Becky, you hear me!" Marcel shouted, striving to be heard outside his own helmet and above the racing wind. "You hang on, and Father Maurice will take care of you…"

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Demona took one last look around at what she'd done, picked up one of the Quarryhammers that had been left lying on the rooftop, then quickly and quietly glided away from the warehouse roof, in the opposite direction of the fire that was blazing nearby. It was a stroke of luck for her that the fire from the helicopter had spread to a nearby building; even though the Quarrymen had undoubtedly alerted the authorities by now, the firefighters and policemen were still too busy fighting the fire and keeping onlookers from interfering to investigate another building less than two blocks away. She'd had no interference while working, and now all that was left was to wait and see what the police and news reporters made of what they'd find here, when they were ready to investigate. If she was fantastically lucky, the events of this night would destroy the Quarrymen forever. If not, then at least their trail would be muddied and the gargoyle hunters would be slowed… at least, she hoped so, with all her might.

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Both the wounded gargs were bandaged and splinted now, but still unconscious. Carlos had his arm in a sling now; he'd have to go to a hospital for X-rays, proper bonesetting and a plaster cast, but he insisted that could wait until later. The gargoyle kid was still pretty upset, and Vinnie couldn't blame her; he'd be freaking out if it had been his parents shot right in front of him. Vinnie found himself wanting to help, but having no idea of what else he could do… except maybe provide something to distract her from her troubles. "Hey, Galena, you like candy? Choc-o-late?" Chocolate must be nearly a universal term, because the kid perked up a little and looked at him hopefully. "Hey, Carlos, tell her I'm going to find the local lunch room and get her something to eat, okay? There isn't an office building in New York that doesn't have a break room with candy vending machines in it. Be right back," as he walked out the door, checking his pockets for quarters. He should have enough for a couple candy bars for the kid, and if he was lucky the machine would stock those bags of microwaveable popcorn; a couple of those for everyone else to share sounded good, too.

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After a quick detour to the roof of her building to drop off the Quarryhammer, Demona returned to her office. When she landed on the ledge outside the office, a late-middle-aged Japanese gentleman opened the window for her and bowed to her deeply. "I am Hiroshi Fukuda, who spoke with you on the radio. Please excuse my companion, Mr. Gregarino, for not being here at this moment to thank you for your hospitality; he has gone to find sweets for the hatchling."

Demona had to smile at that. "A commendable errand… but far more important is the aid you have given to the wounded." Malaquita and Cuarzo now had proper bandages applied to their assorted wounds and electrical burns, Malaquita's broken wing was splinted in place, and since no blood was seeping through any of the bandages she assumed that their bullet wounds had been properly cleaned and sutured shut as well. Even Carlos had a sling to support his broken hand. "Thank you for coming so quickly, and doing such wonderful work!"

Hiroshi bowed again, saying modestly, "I am merely humble constable… but before leaving Japan, I was taught the basics of medicine by the very finest of gargoyle healers." Then he gestured apologetically towards Carlos' hand and said apologetically, "However, my meager knowledge is not enough to mend Mr. Guevara's broken hand; I fear if the bones are not set perfectly, the hand will heal badly and will not work properly. He needs professional doctors…"

Demona nodded slowly. "And he will have one. I will see that he is treated by a doctor… if you can wait for a short while longer?" she asked Carlos apologetically.

Carlos straightened his spine, practically radiating manly stoicism despite being still pale from the pain. "_De nada_; I will be fine."

Well, then… they were safe here at least until dawn, and they'd done all they could for the wounded gargoyles… Now what? Demona looked around for a moment, wondering what to do next. Then she blushed, as her stomach loudly informed her (and the rest of the room) that a good full meal would certainly be in order. Now that she thought about it, no wonder her stomach was rumbling; she hadn't had any solid food in over a week. "Well, is anyone else hungry? After Mr. Gregarino returns, I can see if---"

Just then came a knock at the door, and a youthful voice called in, "Just me, dudes; I got the goods!" The door opened and a young man with lean features and shaggy brown hair came sauntering in with his hands full, saying, "Got some M&M's, a Twix and even a couple of bags of microwaved popcorn for us grownups to--" Then he saw Demona, and his eyes bugged out as all the junk food fell to the floor. "**_You_**!"

Everyone stopped dead, looking at the man in surprise, then at Demona. Hiroshi said slowly, "You two know of each other?"

Demona shook her head, bewildered, but the youngster backed up until he bumped against the doorjamb as he said, "That was you; I remember that hair and the blue skin! You damn near killed me, back in '94!" When Demona just looked at him in confusion, he said accusingly, "You don't remember? I was working for Cyberbiotics back then, a security guard aboard the Air Fortress… You and the big purple dude came aboard, knocked me out and then you wrecked the whole airship!"

Demona gave a start of guilty remembrance. The assault on the Air Fortress… she and Xanatos together had tricked Goliath and the others into assaulting Cyberbiotics' holdings, to get the vital computer programs that Xanatos needed to finish his Steel Clan robots. She remembered now, when she and Goliath had made their way aboard the Air Fortress, she'd surprised a human and knocked him unconscious. She didn't remember that particular human's face, but it was apparently this young man right here in front of her now… and back then, she would have killed him without a second thought, if Goliath had not stopped her. "I-I'm sorry, I do remember you now… and I truly am sorry for what I did back then. I… back then, I was so filled with thoughts of vengeance, of…"

"Vengeance?" Hiroshi quietly interjected. "Vengeance for your slaughtered clan?"

Yama spoke up then as well, his brow ridges furrowed with concern. "Goliath come—ah, came to our clan, he… told us about terrible killing… all made dead by… betrayer. Betrayer aboard…airship?"

They thought the massacre had happened recently, instead of over a thousand years ago! It was a way out, and Demona was internally ashamed at how eagerly she grasped at it… but she could not stand it, just now, if these people looked at her with the same condemnation that Goliath and the rest of her old clan did. No matter how much she deserved it, right now she just couldn't take it… "Yes, he was! Our betrayer had taken a false name after his actions had led to the murder of our clan, and found a job aboard the Air Fortress. And when we finally tracked him down, the memory of our slaughtered kin made us forget all else except taking vengeance on the traitor, no matter the cost to whoever got in our way! It was only after airship had crashed from all the damage that had been done, that we realized how wrong we were… Young one, I truly am sorry. I do not deserve your forgiveness…"

"Awww, man…" the young man looked away and scratched his head in embarrassment, then looked back at her and said with a lopsided smile, "Hey, I'm Italian; while I ain't Mafia, I kinda understand the whole vengeance gig. Let's just forget about it, okay?"

"All right," Demona said, smiling with relief.

Galena had been watching the adults with bewilderment, but now that the tension seemed to have eased she pointed at the junk food on the floor and made noises of hopeful inquiry. "Oh, sure, kid! Here ya go; Uncle Vinnie got some M&M's for you!" as Vinnie scooped the candy packets off the carpet and offered it to her. "And Twix; you got Twix down in Mexico? And I've got popcorn for the rest of us…"

Right on cue, Demona's stomach rumbled loudly again. All the adults hid smiles at her embarrassment, while Galena eyed her, then solemnly offered her the Twix (while possessively clutching the M&M's to her chest). Demona gave a lopsided smile, then tore open the Twix and took one of the bars inside, while handing the other back to the hatchling. Vinnie handed her one of the bags of popped popcorn, too, saying with a grin, "You can have this one; we'll just share the other one. And if anyone else has some money, they had some beef jerky in the vending machine too."

Demona's hunger made her wolf down the popcorn more rapidly than she would have preferred, while Hiroshi dug in his pockets for some American money, then handed a few dollars over to Vinnie with instructions to spend it all on the jerky. By the time he came back, Cuarzo was starting to stir, much to his daughter's relief. The several packets of beef jerky that Vinnie brought back with him were shared between all the gargoyles, with one set aside for Malaquita when she awoke.

Cuarzo tried to sit up but was still too weak and in too much pain, so he lay back on an improvised pillow of Hiroshi's jacket while sipping from a Dixie cup the solution that Hiroshi had concocted; one of his clan's gargoyle-safe painkillers mixed with water. From the face Cuarzo was making while drinking it, it was truly foul tasting stuff, but he forced it down, and afterwards gratefully accepted the beef jerky. While he ate, Carlos and Galena spoke to him in Spanish, bringing him up to speed on what had happened while he was unconscious. Through Carlos, Cuarzo thanked every one for coming to his clan's aid, then asked a simple question: where was the rest of the Manhattan clan?

Demona had been half-expecting that question, but she still cringed from it. Everyone else turned towards her expectantly, as she briefly considered simply saying that everyone else had been killed, and she was the only one left… No. With Goliath being so committed to being friends with humanity, he'd probably be appearing on television soon, appealing for funds to support the P.I.T.! She didn't dare lie about the clan… but she didn't need to tell them _all_ the truth… "The clan… lives elsewhere. I am alone now."

Yama, Hiroshi and Carlos gasped, and once translation had been provided, so did the Mexican gargoyles. Only Vinnie didn't understand the full impact of her words; he just asked, "You guys had an argument or something?"

Demona chuckled bitterly. Oh, how she and Goliath had argued in the past few years…! But she said aloud, "I am banished from the clan. I… after the massacre, when all I could think of was vengeance… It was I who led the assault on the airship, I who caused it to crash, I who caused so much destruction, I who… killed. The clan banished me for my actions, and the banishment is permanent; I can never return."

Now even Vinnie's eyes were wide. "Jeez… Uh, look, I dunno if it makes any difference, but that one guy who died when the airship crashed, I heard he'd had a bad heart already, and pretty much any serious excitement would have killed him. Everyone else got out okay…" But at Demona' still downcast expression, and the minute shake of Hiroshi's head, Vinnie said with a sigh, "Doesn't make a difference, huh? So… so you live here now, huh?" as he cast about, obviously trying for a change of subject. "Nice digs! Do you just pose as a statue in the corner during the day, while the boss does business?"

It was a reasonable assumption, and Demona had indeed thought of saying just that… but the die had been cast. Whether they all remained here in the Nightstone building, or she ferried everyone to her home further north, in a few hours the truth about what she did during the day would come out. She might as well put the best possible spin on it… She shook her head, then made an expansive gesture as she said with a wry smile, "No… I conduct the business myself. I turn into a human during the day, and I own this company."

There were exclamations of amazement all around as everyone stared at her, most of them clearly trying to decide whether or not she'd lost her mind sometime in the last few minutes. Going slowly and choosing her words with care, Demona explained what had happened to her, sometime after she had been banished from the clan. ("How long after? I… truly, I don't know. Back, then, I tried not to count how many nights had passed, how long I was utterly alone…" Yama shuddered at her words, and did not ask again.) She had encountered a Fey, an immortal and magical being, by standing in front of a magic mirror. She had thought the Fey could help her somehow, and after so long, she was desperate enough to no longer care about the tricks that such creatures usually played on mortals—er, yes, she was desperate for company; really any gargoyle company, but in addition to summoning the Fey, the magical mirror had shown her heart's desire: to be with her mate again. Yes, she'd had a mate, but had been dismated when she was banished. (That earned her more looks of sympathy, particularly from Yama.) Anyway, Puck, the Fey, knew what the mirror had shown, but he first teased her with some other tricks, then gave her a way to have all the company she wanted: during the day, as a human. She would infinitely have preferred the company of gargoyles again, but at least she had people to talk to, and during the day they didn't run screaming at first sight of her. Also, after the spell turned her into a part-time human, she'd found a lover who had made her his business partner, and when he'd… died in a fire, she'd inherited the entire business.

Demona looked everyone in the eyes, but kept her wings wrapped around herself the entire time she was speaking; spinning a fragile web of half-truths that tried to cover the gaping omissions left in hiding the full truth. But really, except for that one lie about the man who'd betrayed her clan still being alive in this modern age, she wasn't saying one word that wasn't true. And even that one lie was merely supporting what Yama and Hiroshi thought they already knew; was that really so wrong? And was it really such a bad thing, that these people were forming a far different impression of her than they'd have if they'd actually witnessed what she'd done? She'd really been a different person back then… And the full truth would only hurt them, for if they thought she was a monster too, they'd leave her safe haven and probably end up under attack by Quarrymen again. So really, what she was doing wasn't wrong at all… It wasn't! It had to be all right…

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

After the blue female finished her amazing tale, she excused herself and went into the washroom for a few minutes. That gave Carlos time enough to finish translating her tale for the Mexican gargoyles, and gave Hiroshi time enough for a private conversation with Yama in their own language. During her speech, Yama had occasionally prodded Hiroshi with his tail when he'd heard English words he hadn't learned yet, and Hiroshi had muttered quick translations for him. Now, Hiroshi asked, "((Did you understand most of that? Moreover, do you believe it? Last year I would not have believed such a bizarre tale, but after meeting Goliath, Angela and Elisa, who traveled the world on a boat that was scarcely fit to leave a _koi_ pond… Besides, she would have no reason to lie to us, when only a few hours will show us the truth.))"

"((Indeed. And this explains her odd name; this _Fei_-creature must have given it to her in place of her old name, after casting the spell,))" Yama mused. "((As in the tale of Thunder Eater, it must have demanded her old name as price of the spell, but mischievously given her a new one afterwards.))"

"((Her name? What is it?))" Hiroshi whispered, very embarrassed. "((She didn't say it when I introduced myself to her, and before she arrived, I was too busy treating the wounded to think to ask you. And afterwards…))"

Yama gave a wry smile of understanding. "((She surely assumed I had already told you, which I should have; the fault is mine, not yours. Anyway, she introduced herself to me right after the battle, but at the time I did not pause to question the oddness of her name. She calls herself _Di-mono_…))"

Hiroshi blinked, then had to agree that it would be a very odd name indeed for a regular gargoyle, but it certainly fit their hostess now. In modern Nihongo, _di-mono_ translated into "day-person." "((And if the _Fei_-creature gave her a name from our language, then it must have come from our country, or been there at one point in its immortal life. Do you suppose 'Fei' is the American word for a _tengu_?))"

"((I suspect it was a _kitsune_, actually. She did say that it had pointed ears, didn't she?))"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

When Malaquita finally stirred and returned to consciousness, a few minutes later, Hiroshi gave her the same painkilling solution that had been administered to Cuarzo, while Carlos and her own little clan brought her up to speed on all that had been done and said while she was unconscious. When they had finished, she stared at Demona in amazement as she tried to digest it all, then whispered to Cuarzo and Carlos, "#While it's amazing and wonderful that she's a human by day… I'm really more concerned with the clan she was banished from. If they went through a massacre recently, how many of them are left? Do they have any hatchlings of Galena's generation?#"

"#I haven't asked yet,#" Cuarzo admitted. "#After all that she's done for us, it would be extremely rude to imply that we're more interested in the clan that cast her out …#"

"#Politeness, versus practicality,#" Malaquita sighed. "#But we'll need to know, sooner or later…#"

"#I will find out for you,#" Carlos said with an understanding nod. "#I think I can be discreet about it…#" And with that, he turned to their host and asked, "These Quarrymen… Malaquita would like more information. Have they attacked you before? And have they ever attacked your former clan?"

"They attacked me once before, just over a week ago," Demona said, looking down at the floor. "I barely escaped them then…" She looked up as she continued, "As for my former clan… while I haven't heard anything about them recently, I believe they have been in battle with the Quarrymen at least once. One of those battles was in a newspaper recently…" She did remember reading something about a squad of Quarrymen battling a gargoyle in a hospital, a week before the P.I.T. showed up in her office. Of course, the article hadn't bothered to name or describe the gargoyle, only the Quarrymen who had dared to do battle in a place of healing… "But I'm fairly certain there have been no fatalities yet."

"So… you do not know whether or not they are always so… warlike, out to destroy even frightened children? There have been no reports of attacks on hatchlings?"

Demona shook her head. "No… but that is because my former clan has no hatchlings, not anymore. They were all killed in the massacre."

There were more gasps at that, from everyone in the room, including Vinnie. "The bastards killed _little kids_! Jesus, Mary and Joseph…"

Carlos heartily agreed with the sentiment, and just for a moment, wished he'd been on that airship fighting alongside Demona, looking for the one who had betrayed them and let little gargoyle children like Galena be murdered. He would have been happy to cut that traitor's living heart out with his knife, and throw it into a gutter for the dogs to savage.

After a few moments of sorrowful silence for Demona's loss, Malaquita shook her head. "#No playmates or future mates for Galena," she said softly, her tone filled with despair. "#To have come so far, fought so hard, and now…#"

Over to one side, Yama and Hiroshi were having a fast whispered conversation. After a few seconds of Japanese being exchanged back and forth, Yama spoke up to the room at large, saying, "My clan has fifteen hatchling. Eight boy, seven girl. Many friend for Galena, if you come to Ishimura… many friend for you, if you come. If you _all _come," as he gestured to include the whole room… including Demona.

Demona gave a start, and her eyes went wide, presumably in surprise at being included in the invitation. Hiroshi hissed something at Yama, to which Yama hissed something back with a very determined expression. Then he made himself even clearer: "I come to America to find, and bring back in safety, all gargoyle that want come. My leader told me, as I tell you, all are welcome… even gargoyle who… perhaps be… unwelcome elsewhere."

"#He's inviting all of us back to his home, in Japan—and they have hatchlings aplenty, eight male and seven female!#" Carlos hissed excitedly to the Mexican clan. "#And he's inviting Demona too!#"

"#Wonderful!#" Malaquita said with a wide grin. "#That means there'll be no having to choose between the one who saved us and the clan who cast her out!#" Then her grin turned rueful. "#Of course, that still leaves actually _getting_ _to _Japan…#"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Roughly an hour later…

Matt Bluestone trotted the last two blocks or so to reach his destination, and hence was a little out of breath when he arrived, waving his badge at the uniformed policemen already at the entrance to the Murphy Co.'s warehouse. When the sergeant currently in charge of the scene grumbled about how long they'd been waiting for him, Matt replied, "Give me a break; it's my night off, and I turned my cell phone off while I was at the movies! Even the head of the Gargoyles Task Force needs a night off now and then. But I came here as soon as I got the messages on my answering machine. So, give me a rundown on what's happened so far…"

But even before the policeman could begin his report, a man in a dark blue uniform, full Quarryman regalia except for the hood being removed, grabbed his arm and nearly shouted in his ear, "Those goddamn gargoyles killed nearly a dozen good men, that's what happened!"

Matt turned to eye him with dislike, saying pointedly, "Sir, shouting and grabbing at me is NOT going to help me investigate. …That means _let go_, pal! …Thank you. Now, are you a witness to what happened?"

He heard the Quarryman witness's story while examining the site where one dead Quarryman lay crumpled at the base of a wall, glanced at the still-smoldering wreckage of a Quarryman helicopter (bodies had been sighted inside, but it was still too hot to investigate), then went with the police up to the roof where more bodies could be found. He heard the Quarryman's tale with at first a strong element of disbelief—he knew damn well where most of Manhattan's gargoyle population had been so far that night, because he'd right there with them, waiting to hear if Broadway would survive having his wing nearly severed in a daytime attack—then an increasing amount of worry. The clan living atop the Aerie Building weren't the only gargoyles in town, after all…

But when he got to the second body still lying sprawled in death on the rooftop, he stopped in his tracks to look incredulously at what was being held in the dead man's grip: a dark green section of vinyl-like fabric. It had plainly been ripped from a larger piece, and what remained in the dead man's grip clearly had a triangular shape. "Sunuvabitch…" After a couple of seconds, he turned to the witness, standing at the ruined doorway to the roof (that was as far as they could get the guy to step back and get out of their way while they investigated) and said in a low, dangerous tone, "Do you want to revise your statement, sir?"

"Whah—I'm telling you the truth! Those goddamn gargoyles attacked us, and killed all these people!"

Matt lifted up the dead man's arm, to clearly show the scrap of fabric still held by the rictus of death. "Gargoyles, real gargoyles, _have real wings_. They do not, repeat **_not_**, wear strap-on wings from gargoyle Halloween costumes…"

There were reporters on the scene by then; the first few had arrived long before Matt had gotten there. While the police had managed to hold most of them back while they investigated, one who had a valid press pass _and_ was known to actually have a scrap or two of common sense, enough that the police trusted him to take pictures without contaminating the crime scene, had accompanied them up to the roof. Now the reporter stopped snapping photos long enough to say incredulously, "They were fighting _men in costumes_! ..Are you sure that's what the scrap is from?"

"It'll have to be taken to a lab for complete analysis," Matt said as he gently but firmly tugged the scrap from the dead man's grip, and politely held it up for the reporter to get a clear picture of it before sealing it in a plastic evidence bag. "But I can tell you now that it looks very much like the same material that most of those Halloween costumes were made out of; we've caught enough criminals who were wearing them for disguises in the last few weeks that I'm all too familiar with them."

The Quarryman witness sputtered, "But—but—they _flew_, dammit! The guys on the hovercycles were chasing them in midair before they were grounded here!"

Matt gave him a raised eyebrow. "Oh, really. So now you're saying the men on hovercycles were chasing the gargoyles? Not the other way around? Well, well…"

The witness sputtered again, then clenched his fists and shouted, "They were _flying_! We've got radio reports!"

"Mm-hmm. And the rocket scientists over at Bell Laboratories are perfecting personal jetpacks; some of them are already in service, for major corporations. Do your radio reports happen to mention whether these gargoyles were making roaring sounds as they flew? You know, the _constant_ roaring sound that a jet makes?" Matt walked over to another body with a bit of royal blue poking out from under it, and rolled it over to reveal a bloodied four-fingered glove. More casual surveying revealed another hunk of blue fabric, this one clearly a toe ripped from a gargoyle costume's boot. "One green costume, one blue costume. Anyone want to place bets on whether I'll find evidence of a couple gray gargoyle costumes as well?"

"_They weren't costumes_!" the witness howled. "They were real gargoyles! And those monsters killed all these men!"

Matt indicated one of the bodies right at his feet. "This man was quite obviously killed by a fragment of helicopter blade; it's still stuck in his throat. And that man over there was likely ripped in half by the giant shard that's embedded in the wall behind him; that blood covering the shard had to come from somewhere. And I'm willing to lay odds that's what killed that man over there resting in pieces," he said as he indicated a third body, lying with the head and shoulders a few feet away from the rest of his torso. "That's already three who weren't killed directly by gargoyles… and I'm not convinced that gargoyles downed that helicopter, either. These alleyways are narrow, and there's a reason we have city ordnances forbidding helicopter hotdogging inside city limits…"

But while Matt outwardly refuted the witness's claims, inwardly he was very worried indeed. Two of the bodies clearly bore slashes that had been carved three at a time, and cut nearly to the bone. Since Matt knew from past encounters that gargoyle costume talons were made of plastic and deliberately blunted to avoid accidental injuries, those slashes had almost certainly been made by a real gargoyle. There had apparently been costume-wearing humans with them, but at least one gargoyle really had been involved. Demona was certainly a possibility, but everything Elisa and the gargoyles had told him made it clear that she hated humanity with a passion, and she'd rather be caught dead (if she could die) than associate with humans that were dressed like gargoyles. And the tunnels of the Labyrinth were home to gargoyles too, only one of whom, Hollywood, was already accounted for tonight… After his preliminary investigation was done here, he vowed to find an excuse to sneak away and visit the Labyrinth.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Back inside the Nightstone building, Demona and the others were just finished nailing down the final details of what was going to happen during the upcoming day and the following evening, and their plan to get all the gargoyles safely out of New York and over to Ishimura. But while Hiroshi and Carlos would be going to Ishimura as well, Vinnie Gregarino would be staying behind in America. Carlos was content to go to Ishimura so long as Hiroshi promised there would be a decent-paying job for him there, but Vinnie explained that he was just happier in New York… and besides, somebody had to stay behind and spread the word about how gargoyles are people too, and expose the Quarrymen as the bigoted bastards they really are. Demona agreed, and assured him that so long as he kept her secret—after all, the business world was just not ready for the revelation that a gargoyle could be a good businesswoman—then she would ensure he had a job with Nightstone. If he was tired of working security jobs, she was sure there would be an opening in the mailroom.

Demona was more than happy to use more of Nightstone's resources, in order to make everything go smoothly and swiftly. Tomorrow morning she'd arrange for them to take the Nightstone company jet out of the country, departing tomorrow night at midnight for Tokyo. That would give the foreign gargoyles plenty of time to wake up, collect their belongings and, in the Guerrero clan's case, say goodbye to their hosts in Brooklyn. Rather than risk anyone's safety by possibly being seen in flight, Vinnie would drive a Nightstone cargo van and act as their chauffeur tomorrow evening, driving everyone to their various stops before bringing them all to the JFK airport. They'd be in Japan in less than 48 hours…

But there was plenty to do in the meantime. First, Demona dug around in her desk until she found that roll of bills she kept handy for administering unexpected bribes and whatnot; then she peeled off two thousand dollars' worth, and instructed a goggle-eyed Vinnie to take the money and Carlos and have his injury treated at the nearest hospital's emergency room. (With that much money waved in their faces, surely no one would balk at treating an illegal immigrant without alerting INS.) With whatever was left after getting Carlos' hand fixed, Vinnie was to stop by the restaurant called Morton's on 5th Avenue, and return with steaks done rare for everybody. After that, he would find nearby hotel accommodations for himself, Hiroshi and Carlos, so they could get a few hours' sleep before returning to the Nightstone building an hour before dawn, to begin tomorrow's busy day.

Demona kept a folding cot and pillow in her office suite's closet, and once Vinnie and Carlos had departed, she pulled it out and set it up, explaining that since she had a full day ahead of her tomorrow, she'd have to get some sleep while in gargoyle form. Galena was fascinated by the idea of a gargoyle sleeping while still flesh, and wanted to watch, but Yama enticed her out to the office suite's anteroom. He promised Demona that he and Hiroshi would keep the child quiet while beginning the Mexican clan's first lessons in Japanese, and when the steaks came, he'd bring one in to Demona personally.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

"((This should be interesting))" Hiroshi admitted, sitting as he watched Yama gently herd Galena out of the inner office and back over to where her wounded parents were lying. "((With Carlos gone to get his hand treated properly, we have no one to interpret their Spanish for us. I hope this won't end up like the story of the Korean Stork, in which they end up thinking 'sun' is the word for 'lunchtime'.))"

"((We'll just start with a few simple nouns; items to be found right here in the office, that they're apt to encounter in the village as well,))" Yama said with assurance. "((Pencils, pens, paper and such… But this is mostly just to keep the little one here occupied, instead of fussing over her parents' injuries or over our sleeping hostess.))" He started to glance back in the direction of the office, but caught himself, not wanting to draw the hatchling's attention in that direction again. "((Speaking of which, since you know more of American ways than I do… Do you think this American clan has forbidden _Di-mono_ to ever come within sighting distance of any of the clan _anywhere_, or just within the clan's own territory?))"

Hiroshi spread his hands. "((How would I know that? No American television show has ever shown someone being properly banished; criminals are all either killed, or put in jail. I take it you're worried about their reaction later?))"

"_Hai_. ((Even if we're leaving right now, in order to get this precious child away from those cursed killers as quickly as possible,))" as Yama briefly rested a gentle hand on her shoulder and smiled at her, "((we must still return here later to see if we can rescue more of the clan. But will they come, if they discover that our clan has accepted one they cast out?))"

Privately, Hiroshi thought Yama just might be putting the cart before the horse; while Yama had extended the invitation, _Kai_ would be the one to ultimately decide if _Di-mono_ would be allowed to join their clan. But she'd just fought valiantly to protect not only other gargoyles, but the human who'd been with them, and she'd obviously been working side-by-side with humans for a long time while running this company; Hiroshi thought that went a long way towards restoring the honor that had been stained by another human's accidental death in the midst of a vengeance-hunt. Besides, she was a female of breeding age, and as Yama had hissed to him earlier, if Kai had fought to keep Yama alive after he'd put the whole clan in danger, he'd surely declare _Di-mono_ fit to join the clan; as Kai himself had said seven months ago, they could scarcely afford to lose anyone.

Aloud, Hiroshi replied, "((If they object, you can make plain to them that after Kai accepts her, she's part of _our_ clan now, and the Ishimuran ruling will take precedence over theirs. And if they're too stubborn to accept that, they can set up territory on the island of Hokkaido, or somewhere else that's well out of the _kawarimen_'s reach.))" After a significant pause, he added, "((But if they don't think to ask about her, you needn't volunteer the information until after they're well clear of this mad city and amidst truly civilized society.))"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Demona turned off the lights and settled on the cot, but her mind was too full of whirling thoughts for her to sleep. There would be so much to take care of tomorrow; on top of merely clearing out all the paperwork that had accumulated while she'd spent the past week in a drunken stupor, she had to arrange for the flight to Japan, and accommodations for everyone, both human and gargoyle, once they were in the country but not yet in Ishimura. And she'd have to pick a suitable proxy to run her business for her, while she was in Japan on an indefinite sabbatical… She didn't want to cut all ties to her company and to New York; this city was where her daughter lived. But at the same time, she couldn't pass up the chance to live in and be accepted by a clan again; a real clan, not a batch of flawed clones but true comrades! She'd give up nearly anything for that… including her vendetta against the human race in general, which she'd largely sworn off anyway after the events of last week. She'd have to maintain a fragile tissue of lies, keep secret her immortality and other distasteful facts, but she'd do it all happily, in order to have a true home again! A new clan, a true home, and just in time for next year's breeding season…

Demona tossed and turned, this way and that, until she finally fell asleep caressing her pillow--a pillow she'd subconsciously beaten into an egg shape, and cradled in her arms…

_TO BE CONTINUED IN_

**COMINGS AND GOINGS, PART 2: **

**SHIPS PASSING IN THE NIGHT**

Here are translations for words and phrases that perhaps weren't adequately explained within the story itself…

_**Translations from Japanese:**_

Baka -- foolish, idiot, stupid; frequently used as an all-purpose insult

Boke -- a rude slang term sometimes applied to Alzheimer's sufferers and others afflicted with memory loss

Hai -- yes

Kami -- nature spirits, highly respected in the Shinto religion

Ju ban kami – "a hundred thousand spirits"; rough equivalent to "Oh my God!"

Kitsune – fox-spirit; famous for both wisdom and trickery as well as magical powers. They usually appear as giant foxes that walk on two legs like humans (and can have more than one tail), but they've also been known to appear as humans with sharp features and pointed fox-ears.

Koi: Japanese carp, also called Japanese goldfish. Actually, they originated somewhere in China, but when they were introduced to Japan centuries ago, they quickly became so popular that now they're the national fish. A large and well-stocked koi pond can usually be found in any public park or temple garden.

Shimatta -- dammit!

Tengu: Japanese trickster spirit. See "Yama's Path" for full description.

_**Translations from Spanish:**_

Acotillo – sledgehammer

Ahora – now

Bienvenido a Nueva York – Welcome to New York

Bueno – good

¿Como va¿Dónde ahora están usted¿Ser usted en Nueva York todavía? – How are you? Where are you now? Are you in New York yet?

Esposa – wife

Hija – daughter

Muchacha – female child

¿Que? – what?

_Rescátelos_ –

Si – yes


	2. Ships Passing in the Night

**COMINGS AND GOINGS PART 2:**

**SHIPS PASSING IN THE NIGHT**

By Kimberly T. (kimbertow at yahoo dot com)

See Part 1 for most of the disclaimers and acknowledgments! Just one more to add here: Valjean and the Paris clan are the intellectual property of the TGS staff, and the full story of their demise has been told in the TGS story "From the Heart."

Rated R for violence and a few bits of adult language. And speaking of language, any screwups in foreign language translations are mine too. Sentences and phrase in doubled parantheses are ((translated from Japanese)), while sentences and phrases bracketed by pound signs are #translated Spanish#, and finally, sentences and phrases surrounded by slashes are /translated German/.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Sunrise in five seconds. (Carefully put aside current project, get up and move well clear of all objects)

Three… (Stand with feet apart, body braced in expectation)

Two… (Silently swear that _this_ time everything will be handled calmly and with dignity, while knowing that is and will always be a flat-out lie)

One… (Try to deny that short hiss of pain escaping through already clenched teeth)

Now. "_Hssss_… _Rrrraaahh_, **_aahh_**, **_AAAAAGGGGHHHH_**!"

And the first rays of the morning sun peeked in through the window of the Nightstone CEO's inner office. Moments ago, the room had held five gargoyles and three humans; now it held four stone statues and four humans, one of whom was in the process of slowly getting back on her feet after yet another truly agonizing transformation. Dominique Destine vowed once more that the next time she had the Puck in her grip, she'd grab his ears on either side and pull them right off his head, unless he agreed to change his transformation spell to make it pain-free.

She almost batted away the human hands that reached for her, but looked up in time to see that they belonged to eyes filled with concern and sympathetic horror. "Are you well? Do you need medications? Water?" Hiroshi asked anxiously.

"_Jeez_!" Vinnie blurted, his eyes big as saucers. Carlos, standing next to him with his broken hand bound in a cast and sling, was just as wide-eyed with shock and sympathy. Vinnie continued, "That was… and you gotta go through that every day!"

"And every night," Dominique said wearily as she accepted Hiroshi's help in getting to her feet.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Vinnie said under his breath with a hard swallow. Then he said a little louder, "Remind me to never ask any magical dudes for any favors…" Carlos nodded emphatic agreement.

"All magic has a price," Dominique said as she kindly but firmly took her arm from Hiroshi's concerned grip. "Believe me, gentlemen, the price could have been much higher than regular bouts of pain! Now there is much for me to do today, and not much time until the next sunset. Go out to the anteroom while I get dressed," as she turned to the closet where she kept a spare set of clothes for just such an occasion, "and I'll join you out there in a few minutes."

"As you wish, Di-mono," Hiroshi said with a respectful bow as he turned to leave.

During the night, Demona had noticed that the Japanese human and gargoyle were mispronouncing her name slightly, but decided not to say anything about it. She remembered enough of the Japanese she'd spoken long ago to know that 'di-mono' sounded a lot like 'day-person,' and admitted to herself that it was an apt description these day. Besides, now that she had called an end to her war on all humanity, the name 'Demona' and the more common 'Demon' that the Hunters called her made her somewhat uncomfortable. Now, however, it was daylight and well past time she made something clear to them all. So she stopped them before they could leave and explained, "During the day, when I wear this form, I am known as Dominique Destine. You may call me Dominique… ah, except for you, Vinnie. If you're to be working for me, you'll have to call me Ms. Destine, to maintain proper employee relations."

"Not a problem, Ms. Destine," Vinnie said cheerfully.

Hiroshi bowed to her again, and said, "As you wish, Dominiko," before leaving the office. Dominique rolled her eyes but didn't say anything; it had been close enough. (And besides, the clan in Yatsushiro had been terribly patient with the way she'd mangled their names at first, so long ago…)

She firmly pushed the old and painful memories out of her mind, and got ready for the business day. There really was a lot to do, and not much time at all to do it in.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Miles to the north, in the kitchen of the parish rectory for Our Lady of Mercy Roman Catholic Church, Adam DuBois opened a cabinet door and dropped an odd-looking spray can into the kitchen trash bin. Standing next to him, Marcel LeBeau shook his head and said, "When she wakes up, she ain't gonna like this a-tall, mon…"

Father Maurice was also nearby, looking on with concern. "Marcel had a point earlier, Adam. There is every reason to believe that she'll be fully recovered by sunset… and when she is, she'll be very unhappy with what you've done."

"I'd far rather she'd be unhappy with me, and _alive_, than happily dead," Adam said harshly. "We can't afford to lose her—to lose any of them!"

"Mon, dey all take dat risk ev'ry time dey go to town back home, an' you don' say nuttin'!" Maurice protested.

"Back home, we have crime—but we do NOT have open warfare!" Adam returned, his eyes seeming to glow slightly in the early morning light. "So unless you happen to have a personal fighter jet for her to use, stashed in your back pocket, my decision is _final_!"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Farther south and far under street level, Matt Bluestone walked up a long incline, wearing a thoughtful and unhappy frown. It had taken him most of the night to deal with just the initial investigation into the "incident" at that warehouse… "Incident" being such an innocuous term for what had resulted in the deaths of at least eleven people. All through the night, just every time Matt had turned around, he'd had to deal with people from every level of local government and every damn newspaper in the city, all looking for answers as to what had really happened.

The Quarrymen swore up, down and sideways that they had been battling real gargoyles, who had started the fight by deliberately attacking men who had been on a aerial surveillance watch, trying to keep New York neighborhoods safe. But one Quarrymen witness had already inadvertently let slip that the men mounted on hovercycles had been chasing the gargoyles, not the other way around… not that the mayor of the city gave a flying f#$& about who'd started the fight, only about who'd finished it. And there was no doubt in anyone's mind that body for body, the Quarrymen had come out the worse for this encounter; six bodies on the roof, three in the wrecked helicopter, one more at the base of the warehouse who had apparently fallen to his death (with a little help?) and the eleventh body, found five blocks away just a few hours ago, confirming the Quarrymen's report that one of their hovercycle riders had been knocked off his ride by a gargoyle… or by someone in a flying gargoyle costume.

There was the real question, at least in the mayor's eyes; had the Quarrymen been killed by gargoyles, or by gargoyle imitators? There was no denying that scraps of gargoyle costumes had been found at the battle scene. Jon Castaway, the Quarrymen leader, swore that his men knew the difference between mere costumes and real gargoyles, and that someone must have planted the costume scraps after the battle had ended. But then, he also swore that his organization hadn't been responsible for those tapes that showed gargoyles attacking a couple in the park… even though after WVRN TV had exposed the tape for a hoax, a postal worker recalled that someone resembling Castaway's description, though with a neat goatee added to his facial features, had mailed a box just about the right size for that videocassette. (A damn shame that Castaway was always careful to never leave fingerprints behind… especially since if they could get just one good set of prints that proved Jon Castaway was also Jon Canmore, his butt would be behind bars before he could blink, for the bombing of the 23rd precinct.) But even the mayor had to admit that after that hoax, although the police couldn't prove in court that the Quarrymen were behind it, their words could no longer be blindly accepted as the gospel truth.

So who had been up there on the roof, fighting the Quarrymen? Just as there was no denying the scraps of costume, there was also no denying that four of the dead men and one of the wounded bore trios of slash marks that resembled the work of real gargoyle talons… But many of them also bore wounds made by _shuriken_, Japanese throwing stars; Matt and the other investigators had found nearly a dozen littering the rooftop. And Miyako, one of the patrolmen who worked the graveyard shift, confirmed that while Japanese ninjas were most famous for their shuriken, they also had been known to use steel strap-on claws called _nekote_ that strapped on to each finger (and if one fell off the pinky finger, the other three could still be deadly). Miyako had added that ninja had also used three-clawed weapons that were strapped to the palm of the hand, called _tekagi_ or _shuko_ depending on the dialect. They were primarily used for climbing aids, but Miyako had once seen a fighting demonstration with a set that had slashed right through a vinyl dummy's face… Forensics was still examining the bodies to see if traces of the weapons used could be found in the wounds, but their report wasn't expected until tomorrow night at the earliest.

Matt had dusted some of the shuriken for prints, but no prints had been found so far. Which could mean that the gargoyle-costume-wearing man who had been throwing those things around had been careful to wear gloves even while packing the weapons into his costume… but Matt was one of the very few people in this city to know from personal experience that true gargoyles don't have fingerprints. Back while Elisa had been seeing the world with Goliath and Matt had been the remaining gargoyles' only human contact, Broadway had once asked him to bring a fingerprinting kit upstairs, so they could learn more about how human detectives did their work. Matt had been happy to show them a few pointers, and learn a bit more about gargoyles in the process…

Between the investigation itself and the constant interruptions to deal with city and state officials, not to mention truckloads of reporters, it had taken nearly until dawn for Matt to get away for a little while. Elisa was _sooo_ lucky that she'd decided to stay at the castle instead of returning home after Broadway had come out of surgery; if she'd been home, Matt would have gladly dragged her butt down to the station to help with the investigation and even run interference with the reporters. (Elisa was never afraid to tell a reporter who got too obnoxious, or city official who tried to tell the cops how to do their jobs, just where and how far they could shove their questions and inanities. While that was one reason why she wasn't a police captain already—the police commissioner was scared to death of what she'd do if she took on a captain's usual PR duties—having her on hand in a touchy investigation sure made things easier sometimes; she'd have the reporters at arm's length, sometimes half of them afraid to open their mouths lest they get on the wrong side of her razor tongue, while Matt quietly went on with his work.) But she'd been up in the castle with the Manhattan clan all night, and if they'd heard about the attack… Matt absolutely, positively did NOT want Goliath and the others involving themselves in this right now; that was almost guaranteed to make an already complicated investigation even more complicated.

It had taken him until nearly dawn to get down to the Labyrinth, where the cloned gargoyles made their home; he'd arrived only a few minutes before they'd turned to stone for the day. But he'd established that Hollywood was the only gargoyle to have left the Labyrinth at all that night; when the others had woken up to find Hollywood missing, Maggie and Claw had kept them down below, occupying their attention with games and such to keep them from gliding up to the castle to see their brother. And after Hollywood had returned, weak as a kitten from donating so much blood to save Broadway's life, concern for him had kept them below street level for the rest of the night; the most exciting thing any of them had done all night was kill a few rats that had been foolish enough to venture into the main Labyrinth area, then give them to Hollywood for a get-well-soon present.

There was still one gargoyle unaccounted for: Demona. (Two, if you counted Thailog, but Talon and the gargoyles were thinking now that he must have died after all, in that fire on Coney Island last August; there'd been no sightings of him since then.) By all reports, Demona was certainly bloodthirsty enough, and had enough general hatred of humanity, to kill eleven Quarrymen without a qualm… but that very hatred of humanity made it very unlikely that she'd associate with mere humans wearing costumes. It was possible that if she'd been involved, she'd come back after the battle was over but before the police had gotten there, and planted the scraps of costumes just to throw the investigation off track… but if so, who had been the other gargoyles with her? The Quarrymen swore, and evidence from the crime scene bore out, that more than one opponent had been involved.

If they had been gargoyles, but not the Wyvern Clan or the Clone Clan, where had they come from? Japan? That would explain the _shuriken_, and Elisa had said there was a gargoyle clan living somewhere in Japan. But she'd also confirmed Matt's own observation that gargoyles were territorial in nature; once they'd claimed a territory, such as Manhattan, they generally stayed within its boundaries unless something very important called them away. Unlike many humans who like to go exploring, climbing mountains and crossing oceans just to see what they could see, most gargoyles could be classified as "homebodies." Goliath and Bronx would likely have never left on that World Tour to start with, if Guardian Tom hadn't told them that the clan's children were in danger. (There was Angela, of course; Matt had been told that she'd voluntarily left her home in Avalon to go exploring, and even now that Manhattan was her home, she was reportedly showing signs of wanting to go exploring again. But considering the way the rest of the clan was reacting to Angela's "worrisome" hints and musings, she was apparently the exception that proved the rule.) So where had the other gargoyles, **IF** they had been gargoyles, come from and why had they come?

But if Miyako was right and the claw marks had been made by ninja _nekote, tekagi_ or _shuko_, then all the Quarrymen's opponents could have been humans, flying with the aid of personal jet packs like the models that Xanatos and his wife had. And that opened up a whole new can of worms… The very last thing the city needed was a gang that wore gargoyle costumes for their "colors." Not just because they already had a surfeit of Crips and Bloods and Mafia and Triad and Yakuza imports and truckloads of lesser gangs, but because every gargoyle imitator that committed crimes would cause that much more grief for the real gargoyles. So far, all the criminals that had been sporting gargoyle costumes—all the ones that the police knew of—had been caught, unmasked and hauled off to jail, sometimes with the aid of the clan. But those crooks had all been operating solo, too; if a gang of such people truly got organized…

Matt sighed, rubbing his forehead; sometime during the night, he had developed a raging headache. Rather than go to the castle now, to let Xanatos know what was going on and see if he'd heard anything from the Illuminati's inner circle that might be related to last night's incident, he decided to go home and get some sleep. He'd talk to Xanatos in the afternoon, and maybe by then Forensics would have found something that would give them a break in the case. Or maybe by then a hospital would come forward with a report of humans who had been treated for electrical burns and bullet wounds that had been caused by the Quarrymen.

Or maybe the solution to the whole mess would just suddenly come to him in his sleep, like that scientist who figured out the formula for benzene when he dreamed about snakes eating their tails. A funny dream, that; maybe the guy had been Norwegian, because the old Norse had that myth about the snake that encircled the whole world with its tail in its mouth… Good grief, had he really thought about that useless bit of trivia? No doubt about it, he _really_ needed sleep…

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

The administrative and executive levels of Nightstone, Incorporated were in an uproar all that day; rumors buzzed about the water coolers and bounced around the break rooms, crowding out all other talk, even plans for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. Their CEO, Dominique Destine, was back at work after a full week of unexplained absence, and issuing the darndest orders: Arranging for the company jet to be flown to Japan tonight, with herself and a bunch of total strangers aboard. Appointing one of the executives to run the company in her stead. Announcing that another executive, whose name would be kept secret, would be reporting directly to her on the company's progress. Having one of the dumpsters behind the building hauled away to a junkyard, after it had been locked up for a week. Telling the Mailroom that they had a new employee starting right now, and never mind the lack of a resume… What was going on!

Theories abounded:

The Dragon Lady had finally fallen in love, with that middle-aged Japanese gentleman that was in her inner office all day (and they were having wild sex right there on the executive desk; that was why she had that "_The first person to open this will be IMMEDIATELY FIRED_" sign on the doorknob!) And they were going to Japan for a traditional Japanese wedding, whatever that was like…

Nightstone was going to be audited by the IRS, and their CEO was fleeing the country before she could be nailed for tax evasion. So why run to Japan instead of Bermuda, where most other corporate executives ran when fleeing the IRS and other government departments? Because that's where her former partner, Alexander Thailog, must be staying, and she hated his guts so much she wouldn't be caught dead on the same island as him…

The dumpster that had been hauled away to the junkyard had a dead body in it; Ms. Destine was trying to get rid of evidence, after cold-bloodedly killing somebody. But whose body? Nobody at Nightstone had disappeared lately… It was Marcia Rathers, that secretary that used to work at Marketing! She'd been fired just before Ms. Destine had disappeared for a week; she must have come back after hours to clear out her desk, overheard something she shouldn't have, and been killed for it! …No, couldn't be her; Marcia's friend Jenny swore up and down that right after she'd been fired, Xanatos Enterprises had hired her, and even called her at her new desk in the Aerie Building to prove she was alive and well.

That new guy in the mailroom, a Vinnie somebody—no one was quite sure of the last name—was actually her secret love child. They must have a pretty close relationship, because when he overheard some other employees calling her the Top Bitch—which wasn't even the worst name people had come up with for her!—he'd shut them up and told them they were dead wrong about her. As if a guy who'd just been hired that day could know more about her than people who'd been working her since Nightstone first began hiring! But rumor said that _he'd_ said he knew more about her than they ever would…

That new guy in the mailroom wasn't the Dragon Lady's secret love child (he was really a little old for that, unless she'd had a facelift or two, though that was a possibility); he was her lover! Rich older woman were acquiring boytoys all the time in Hollywood. …But if that were true, why was he staying here while she went to Japan?

Ms. Destine had lied about having appointed another executive to report on the CEO-by-proxy; instead, that new guy in the mailroom was going to be her spy!

Ms. Destine had made a deal with the Feds, and the new guy was actually an FBI agent, planted there to crack a secret drug ring that was operating out of the Nightstone building! He was probably carrying a concealed weapon…

Whatever made that new guy so special, several people decided, it would be a good thing to get on his good side. Why is why by noon that day, that guy named Vinnie had offers to go out with people for fishing trips, dinners, football games, hockey games… enough to keep him busy every weekend right through New Year's (and a secretary in Marketing had already called dibs on being his date in Times Square that night.)

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

One o'clock on a Tuesday: Elisa stifled a yawn as she guided her car over the bridge to Ryker's Island Prison, and slowed to stop at the first checkpoint. She really hadn't gotten enough sleep in the last 24 hours, since being awoken at about this time yesterday afternoon; she'd caught a few Z's while at the castle, having curled up in an easy chair and dozed while waiting for Goliath to return from his patrol, but awakened when he'd returned so they could visit Broadway together. Then she'd stayed at the castle until dawn, and only went home for her own bed and a few hours of real sleep after seeing Goliath and all the others to their sleep of stone. But now it was time for her weekly visit with the Canmores, an appointment that Elisa meant to keep for every week that she possibly could; it really was the least she could do for Jason, after he'd taken a bullet that had been meant for Goliath.

For the umpteenth time since getting into the car, she glanced at her left hand, at the fancy gold band now gracing her ring finger. A ring that hadn't been there last week… Jason was sure to notice it and ask about it. And she didn't dare tell him about her now being married to Goliath; there were limits to many people's tolerance, and she didn't want to test his by telling him about her being married to a gargoyle. (Before Sunday night, she might have considered it. But after Goliath had frowned when Halcyon Renard's name had come up in conversation, and after he'd finally admitted what he'd overheard Renard saying to his aide Preston Vogel during the reception; after hearing that one of the clan's closest allies actually feared for her _soul_, due to her committing _bestiality_…! That had _hurt_. No matter how much she and Goliath had sworn to each other that a stubborn and bigoted old man's opinion didn't matter worth gravel to their happiness, the knowledge still hurt. And she didn't want to cause any more hurt to either Jason _or_ herself.)

Still preoccupied with how to deal with her secret—should she just take the ring off, put it in a pocket until the visit was over? And continue to do that for as long as she was allowed to visit?—the prison guard's words didn't register at first, and he had to repeat them for her. And then he had to repeat them a third time, very slowly, after she stared at him in utter befuddlement: "He's… not… here… any… more. He… was… released… last… Friday. What, do you need me to use sign language!"

Jason had been released! But his bail had been set sky-high! …And what about his sister, Robyn?

After being informed that Robyn Canmore had also been released last Friday, Elisa turned around and went back to Queens, growing more worried with every mile that passed. Why hadn't Jason called and told her the news? He knew her number... She knew instinctively that Jason would have contacted her after being released, unless the reason behind his release had him too ashamed to do so… or someone or something had actively prevented him... Well, okay, she'd unplugged the phone last Friday morning, because she hadn't wanted to be disturbed during her few hours sleep before meeting Beth's airplane, but since then the phone and her answering machine had been working just fine! Was whoever had gotten him released keeping him away from all means of contact, for unsavory purposes? Right at that moment, she could think of only one person who would have the motivation… Was Jon Canmore/Castaway trying to reunite the Hunters?

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

At that moment, approximately thirty nautical miles out at sea, the _Anton von Werner_, a German cargo ship, was cruising straight for New York Harbor. It carried a full load of BMW's and other German-made automobiles, and other goods that had been made in Germany. And while it wasn't listed on the cargo manifest, the ship also carried a being who had been hatched there…

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

At two o'clock in the afternoon, Dominique Destine took a late lunch hour. She took with her a suitcase-sized container; one that had been unsealed and empty when it had been delivered to her office earlier, but which was now significantly heavier and sealed shut. She had her chauffeur drive her to Morton's on 5th Avenue, one of New York's finest steakhouses, where a private room awaited her.

Shortly after her arrival, a mahogany-skinned man with glasses was ushered into her presence. "To what do I owe the honor of this invitation?" he asked her politely, but with a wary eye.

"Do sit down," Dominique invited. And after he did so, she said casually, "I understand you are, or were, in the employ of another well-known businessman… a man named Tony Dracon?"

The man known throughout most of New York's underworld simply by his nickname, "Glasses," said carefully, "The name is somewhat familiar to me. And you brought this up because…?"

"The same one who advised me of your employer also advised me that you are the sort of man who either knows just who to contact, to get any sort of job done… or does the job himself, when necessary. Loyal, intelligent, determined, and highly resourceful."

"I'm truly touched," he said dryly. "I may start blushing at any minute. And this fulsome praise is leading up to…?"

"A one-time job offer," Dominique said with a raised eyebrow. "Just a little something for you and those who work for you to do, while waiting for your employer to, shall we say, settle his disagreement with the local authorities."

Glasses waited a beat, then said bluntly, "A contract."

"One could use that term, yes… though _none of this_ will be committed to paper," Dominique said severely. "This will _not_ be traced back to me, under _any_ circumstances."

" 'Discretion is our watchword,' " Glasses quoted with a half-smile. "But before I say yea or nay to anything, I'll need more information… such as exactly _who_ this contract is about."

Dominique smiled, a very odd smile. "What would you say if I said, that's entirely up to you?"

Glasses hadn't been expecting that, and he stared at her for a moment before saying, "I'd say, you'd best explain that."

"There is one criteria involved in choosing the subject," Dominique said as she nudged the sealed case forward. "He must be a wanted criminal; someone that quite frankly, Humanity as a whole would be better off without. I'm sure you have plenty of 'business rivals' to choose from…"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

The afternoon sun sank lower and lower in the sky, until it finally touched the western horizon and sank beneath it. Just before it sank out of sight, the last few rays seeped through the bedroom curtains of an apartment rented to one Matthew J. Bluestone… but didn't awaken the man lying there with the sheets pulled up over his head. After Matt had finally finished at the precinct and returned to his apartment, he'd found five more messages on his answering machine, all pertaining to the Quarrymen case. He hadn't gotten to sleep until ten a.m., and then only after unplugging his phone, turning off his cell phone, and posting a note on his door saying that the first person to knock would be arrested for disturbing the peace. Matt had still fully intended to get up and go to the castle before sunset, to talk with Xanatos… but the broken alarm clock lying on the floor next to the bed gave mute evidence as to how those plans had changed.

So Matt Bluestone slept on, while all across the city, gargoyles awakened. Including one deep in the bowels of the Werner; though the sun's rays hadn't reached him, Heinrich still awoke at sunset. Unlike most other gargoyles, Heinrich didn't roar upon awakening; long decades of hiding from humanity in the midst of a bustling city had forced the Dresden-Berlin clan members to train themselves to be voiceless at dusk. But he still stretched and flexed and shook the last few shards of stone skin off himself, before taking stock of his situation.

His sharp ears caught the sound of voices outside the shipping crate he'd concealed himself in; two men—no, three of them. One of them had heard the sound of his stone skin breaking, and wanted to investigate, but the others were saying that it wasn't worth the trouble to find out what had crashed; if they broke the seals on any of these crates, their company would be liable for any and all damages discovered. Heinrich smiled lopsidedly, wondering what they'd do if they happened to notice that the crate he was in had the top seal broken, since he'd broken it to make his hiding place the night he'd stowed away aboard the ship.

But for once, he was having good luck; the men were walking away now instead of looking at his crate. From what they were saying as they left, the ship had reached port, but was still in the process of unloading. Well, he'd been aboard for several nights already; he'd wait a few more hours, until the current shift of workers went home, before breaking out and going to look for the gargoyles of New York.

To pass the time while waiting for the coast to clear, he pulled out a loose-leaf binder full of paper and his pen, and began writing again. This was how he'd kept himself sane, during the long voyage with no one to talk to; he wrote almost constantly. Letters to Karl and Andrea, and to Helmut and Helga, describing what he'd seen and overheard so far, and letters to little Gregor that were simpler and more 'sanitized' versions of the letters to his parents. Heinrich hadn't worked out yet exactly how he would mail the letters back once he reached shore, but he was sure he'd find a way eventually. There was also a diary section for his most private thoughts, hopes and fears that he would share with no one… and even a section for stories. Like every child, Gregor enjoyed hearing stories about other children's adventures, but the storybooks that Karl and Andrea brought home for him all featured either human children, or talking animals. So Heinrich had taken it upon himself to write stories featuring gargoyle children, and over the last decade, he'd written over two dozen stories. Most of them featured a gargoyle named Little Johannes, a bright and resourceful child who got into all sorts of mischief and fantastic adventures while chasing after his pet cat Igor. Gregor's favorite story so far was _Johannes und der Drache_, but Heinrich had a hunch that this new tale, _Johannes und die Piraten_, would also be well received.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Inside the CEO's inner office at Nightstone, Inc., four gargoyles were clustered in concern and dismay at a fifth one who was heaving herself up off the floor. As the agony of transformation faded, Demona realized she was hearing rapid-fire exchanges of Mexican and Japanese over her head. Her skills in both languages were rusty after centuries of disuse, but she was pretty sure that the information Malaquita was demanding from Carlos was the same information Yama wanted to learn from Hiroshi: Had there been another attack just now? Had an assassin fired a shot through the windows just before they awoke? Or was she deathly ill, or having convulsions from food poisoning? And Carlos and Hiroshi were explaining that no, everything was all right; Demona (although Hiroshi was still mispronouncing her name) had just neglected to tell anyone before dawn that transforming from gargoyle to human and back again was agonizing in the extreme. And after they were finally convinced she was all right, when she smiled and shrugged and flexed her wings at them to say without words that she was used to it and that they shouldn't let it bother them, Yama muttered something else to Hiroshi. Demona didn't catch all of it, but she thought Yama was saying he'd decided not to go looking for a _kitsune_ back home after all…

Even if the renewed exposure was restoring her memories of long-unused languages, Demona decided to keep speaking only in English. She was sure that the versions she had learned while wandering through Castile in the fifteenth century, and living in Japan in the early nineteenth century, contained many archaic words no longer in common use, and someone would ask her how she'd come to know them. Besides, years of living on the run or in hiding had taught her that information was power and advantage, and had ingrained caution even among fellow gargoyles. If they didn't know that she somewhat understood them, they'd feel freer to say whatever they pleased around her, even information that they'd rather have kept from her ears.

"Please, help yourself to the food," she told everyone, gesturing to the small feat laid out on her executive desk. Now that they were assured she was okay, the smell of roasted chicken, steak strips, baked potatoes, fresh fruit and fresh pastries beckoned them forward even before the humans were done translating. "We'll need to stay in here another hour and a half, until the regular workers in the building leave for the day; I don't want to risk the exposure of someone looking out a window as we glide past. But once the building is empty for the most part, I'll guide you all to the parking garage in the basement. Vinnie will be waiting there to chauffeur us all to our various stops before we go to the airport. Everything has been arranged; we'll be flying out at midnight tonight!"

After all that had been translated for them, with her cheeks bulging with pastries despite her mother's hissing to eat more slowly, have the meat and vegetables first and at least not talk with her mouth full, little Galena had a mumbled question for Carlos. He grinned, and turned to Demona to tell her that Galena wasn't too sure about letting someone else do the gliding for her, and wanted to know why they couldn't just ride another train to Japan instead.

Demona rolled her eyes, laughed and gestured. "Come over here, little one! …Yes, you can bring your food along. Have you ever seen a computer before? No? Well, this little box can show you the world, if you know how to look at it right and what to tell it to do. There are many wonderful map sites out on the Internet… ah, here's a good one. Carlos, help me pinpoint your old village on this map series for Mexico. While we're all waiting is as good a time as any for some geography lessons…"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Up inside Castle Wyvern atop the Aerie Building, Owen walked into the main security room and said quietly but firmly, "Your shift ended five minutes ago."

"I realize that, sir," Jameson the security guard said with a respectful nod as he turned to face him. "I know I'm off the clock already. But… please, don't ask me to leave yet. I can't leave until I know whether or not…" he took a deep breath, then turned to face a monitor as he finished, "whether or not my screwup yesterday cost a gargoyle the use of his wings forever."

Owen seemed about to say something, but instead he just shook his head, and moved to stand next to Jameson and peer into the monitor. It was tuned to one of the cameras mounted on the castle's highest battlements, which had been turned to face the door to the interior…

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Broadway opened the door and stepped determinedly through it, not quite batting away the hands that had reached out to either prevent him from going through or open it for him. "I'm fine, guys, really! The 'concrete cure-all', remember?"

"But, Broadway…" Lexington's voice trailed off uneasily, as he stared one more at Broadway's left wing. Two nights ago, it had been smooth and unmarred, but now… four string-like ridges of scar tissue in varying lengths snaked up his wing, tying together in an awful keloidal knot at the site where the crowbar had struck the stone.

"I said, I'm fine now! And I'm going to prove it!" Broadway almost snarled at them all, flexing his wings as he cleared the doorway… and trying but not succeeding to hide his wince of pain as his left wing faltered in mid-flex.

Goliath saw that wince and falter, and where before he'd been silent, now his voice rose sharply. "Broadway!"

Broadway stopped in his tracks, then turned to Goliath and said with a sigh, "Goliath… I have to try."

Goliath nodded solemnly. "I know. But your first flight will be only from my perch," as he gestured to the highest point on the battlements, "to the courtyard below. No turns, no midair maneuvers. Only after accomplishing that may you attempt more. Understood?"

Broadway sighed again. "Yes, Goliath," and he turned to climb the stairs up to Goliath's normal perch.

As Broadway climbed, the door opened again, and Dr. Lucinda Lacey strode through it angrily, holding a bloodstained bandage to her right cheek. "Where has that fool gargoyle gone off to!"

"He has gone to test his wings, Doctor," Goliath said as he rose to his full height and flexed out his own wings, blocking her from going up the stairs after Broadway. "And you will _not_ interfere."

"But he was operated on only yesterday!" Dr. Lacey protested. "I didn't even get a good look at the injury site today after he woke up! And if that damn shard hadn't hit me right in the face--"

Goliath almost, but not quite, smirked. "Didn't any of Sevarius' notes specify the safe distance for waiting while a gargoyle awakens?" The doctor sputtered in outrage, but before she could make a coherent reply Goliath continued, "Broadway's testing will begin with the easiest of glides; it's the common first glide for the clan's hatchlings, once they're ready to come out of the rookery. And the others are preparing for if anything goes wrong," as he pointed down to the courtyard below. Hudson and Angela were down in the courtyard already, with Hudson pointing to where he wanted Angela to stand and wait. Brooklyn was climbing up to a perch on one side and flexing his wings, obviously preparing to spring into flight if Broadway developed trouble in midair and went off-course. Having jumped off the battlements after Goliath spoke to Broadway, Lexington was gliding over to the other ready-to-assist position on the other side of the courtyard. Xanatos and Fox were standing at the doorway to the courtyard, watching the preparations; Xanatos had a semblance of his usual confident smile, but Fox wasn't even trying to hide her worried frown.

Goliath glanced up to the high perch, where Broadway would surely appear in another moment, and wondered if he should be up there as well; closely watching Broadway before the launch, to determine if his wings really had healed well enough for him to attempt gliding. No, that would be _too _much like the first flight of a hatchling (and for a moment he fell under the spell of memory, then angrily pushed back the images of the hatchlings he'd seen launch on their first flights. Hatchlings all dead now, dead for over a thousand years…) This was **_now_**, he had to keep his mind on **_now_**, and right _now_ he had to show that he still trusted his warrior's own judgment. Broadway didn't need anyone up there with him right now, treating him even more like a hatchling. The precautions the others were taking below, while sensible, were surely humiliating enough.

Once everyone was in position, Brooklyn called up to Broadway encouragingly, "Ready when you are, Bro!"

Already standing on Goliath's perch with his wings outstretched (and if the left wing had been slower to unfold than the other, no one had commented on it,) Broadway took a deep breath, and jumped.

While not perfect, his form was excellent; head up, arms, legs and tail aligned for minimal air resistance, and wings at just the right angle for an easy descent. Focusing on the perfect angle of those wings, Goliath felt a grin of sheer delight start to form; this clan's warrior still knew the sky!

But when Broadway reached the courtyard, and started to backwing for braking… His left wing didn't angle back and extend at the same pace as the right. His flight pulled to the right, he tried to correct, overcompensated, and ended up crashing right into Angela.

Goliath swore under his breath as he saw his daughter and her would-be mate go down together in a squawking tangle of arms and legs; then he leaped off the battlements and glided down, ignoring the doctor's startled/outraged, "Wait for me, dammit!"

By the time Dr. Lacey had huffed and puffed her way down to the courtyard, Broadway and Angela had already gotten back to their feet… that is, Angela had gotten to her feet; Broadway was on his knees, hiding his face in his hands. Everyone around him was almost in tears, even while trying to tell Broadway that it had been just a little mistake, and maybe there'd been a bad cross-breeze or something, and they could try again later…

"_Oh, for Christ's fucking sake_!" Lacey bellowed, causing everyone to stop in their tracks and stare at her. "You people are supposed to be _intelligent_; haven't you ever heard of physical therapy!"

After a few more angry exchanges back and forth between the doctor and the clan, in which the doctor learned that yes, the clan had heard of the concept of physical therapy, but hadn't thought it applied to them anymore than _sunburn_ did—stone sleep either healed you within a day's span or it didn't, and that had been that for the entire history of their clan—they worked out a tentative plan for exercising Broadway's wings, that would hopefully restore more function than stone sleep had done. "And I want you to the point where you can do ten repetitions of the entire set without stopping, and perfect form each time, before you so much as jump off a footstool!" Lacey told Broadway, leaning in and poking a finger into his chest for emphasis.

Lightning-fast, he caught her hand and held it, while his eyes gave off a faint whitish glow. Lacey instantly went still, her face a mask of perfect calm; only the gargoyles nearest to her could see and smell the tiny telltales that said she was suddenly remembering what physical feats gargoyles were capable of, and suddenly very worried.

Broadway said slowly, "Listen, Doc… I know you're trying to help. But there's a right way and a wrong way to talk to people, including us, and you're really doing it the wrong way! The only ones who can _ever_ bark orders at me like that are the clan leader and the clan second-in-command, and you aren't either of them!" The glow in his eyes faded, and he let go of her hand. "But I'll do the exercises, and see what good they'll do… You really did this with a bat once?"

Lacey nodded. "On a Flying Fox bat that had gotten loose and had been attacked by a local hawk. But three months after the attack, it was flying on its own again; not quite as agile as before, but it got around just fine at night with the rest of the bat colony! And it should be easier with you than it was with the bat, since you can talk and understand me, and understand why it's all being done…" She paused to step back, and critically survey him from head to toe, as she said, "Mind you, while your wingspan is almost four times the biggest known bat's span, your weight is about _100 times_ more; that's got to be accounted for when gauging your wing strength." Broadway flushed as she continued, "Probably better put you on a diet, too, to be on the safe side…"

"The doctor's right, Broadway dear," Angela said as she laid a comforting hand on his arm. "But I promise, I'll help you wherever I can. Help you with the exercises, help you maintain your diet…"

"We will all help, Broadway," Goliath said with assurance as he rested a hand on Broadway's shoulder. "Whatever is needed in order to get you into the sky again, we will do, and do gladly; your clan is here for you."

Bronx had been waiting in a corner while the test glide and the ensuing drama had been going on, but now he nosed his way into the group and whuffed gently at Broadway as if to say that he'd help too, if he could. Then he rubbed up against Dr. Lacey, forcing her to step back a bit from his sheer weight against her legs, and rubbed some more with an inquiring whine.

"Hey, fellow; we haven't forgotten you," Dr. Lacey said as she looked down at Bronx, a sudden soft smile changing the topography of her still battered features. She reached down to waggle his ears, rub along his spikes and scratch under his chin, and soon Bronx was sitting at her feet and groaning with delight.

The rest of the clan looked on the display of affection with a mixture of wonder, disbelief and something's-not-right-here… Brooklyn muttered to Goliath, "How come she rubs every last one of us winged gargoyles the wrong way, but she and Bronx are like rookery kin?"

Goliath only shook his head, before heading back inside the castle. Some humans were simply beyond understanding… and at the moment, he was more concerned with a human that he knew very well indeed.

Last dawn, before he'd gone to his stone sleep, Elisa had said she'd be there when they all work up, to see if stone sleep had restored Broadway's wings… but she wasn't here. Where was she? It wasn't at all like her to make a promise, then not keep it, let alone fail to give all the support she could for a member of the clan.

In the living room, the message light on the clan's answering machine was blinking: flash-flash-pause, flash-flash-pause. If he remembered correctly, that meant two messages had been left for the clan on that device, by callers during the daytime. Perhaps one of them was from Elisa? He reached out and pushed _Play_.

-click- Hi, people! It's Jeffrey Robbins. Hudson and Goliath, if you can spare the time tonight, would you come out to my home for an hour or two? I've got about fifty questions I'd like to ask you. It's all for that book idea I got at the bachelor party last Friday; Hudson should remember our talking about it… that is, if he can remember much at all of that night (heh heh). Seriously, you people could use some good PR, and a book about your clan's long history might help out a lot. Give me a call or just drop on by, okay? –beeeep-

-click- Hi, guys; it's me. If Goliath isn't listening yet, save this for him, okay? …Big Guy, if you're hearing this at all, it means I wasn't able to get back to the castle before sunset to clear the tape. I'm sorry, but… there's this sticky situation that's developed at work… Sorry to be so vague, but right now it's so confusing, I want to wait until we get a few facts straight before trying to explain it all. I'll call you as soon as I can, okay? -beeeep… beep-beep-beep-

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

It was past sunset, Elisa realized as she glanced out a precinct window at the darkening skies. Good thing she'd thought to make that phone call right after she'd arrived at work, so Goliath would know why she wasn't there after all. She hoped Broadway's wing was completely healed and that he'd be able to fly again, but right now she had other problems…

She'd gone straight to the precinct after leaving Ryker's Island; Captain Chavez had a better working relationship with the Ryker's prison warden than she did, and she needed answers to her questions about Jason and Robyn Canmore too badly to risk antagonizing the man again. But when she'd arrived at the precinct, the first thing she saw on her desk was a sheet of cardboard overlaying a stack of papers, and the cardboard had "Maza" written on it in Matt's handwriting. She turned the cardboard over to find a hasty note on the back: _Don't talk to **anyone** until after we talk_. And Matt had drawn those extra squiggles on the 'a' and the 'e', and lengthened the tail of the 'y'; that was their secret code for 'anyone with wings and a tail'…

Looking through the papers stacked underneath the cardboard, starting with Detective Bluestone's preliminary investigation report on the top, she'd realized why Matt had added that precaution. Gargoyles and/or gargoyles imposters (!) in a battle with the Quarrymen! Eleven Quarrymen dead, four more injured… And this had all happened _last night_; why the hell hadn't she been notified before now! …Stupid question; because she'd been with the real gargoyles all last night, who'd been busy dealing with their own crisis. Emotions had been running high enough already after that midday sneak attack; adding this news on top of that would have been like pouring gasoline onto a raging fire. And there was no excuse Matt could have used to draw Elisa away from the clan's crisis, that wouldn't have made Goliath and the others suspicious anyway.

The next paper under the preliminary investigation report had been another note in Matt's handwriting; a brief 'SoCal all OK.' Elisa had sighed in relief when she'd seen that note; she'd been all set to go charging off to the Labyrinth, to see if the mutates and gargoyle clones living there had been involved in the battle. But since the clones had all been named after locations in Southern California, 'SoCal' was a lot safer to say in front of others than 'the clone clan.'

The stacks of papers held interviews with the surviving Quarrymen, and interviews with supposed witnesses (though she recognized the names of three of those supposed witnesses as 'canaries', people who had claimed to have witnessed crimes in the past and had been discovered to be lying, just trying to get attention in their own twisted way.) There were preliminary autopsy reports on six of the dead Quarrymen, Forensics' reports on the rooftop that had seen most of the fighting, and a note from the FAA investigator who'd been assigned to investigate the helicopter's crash. All these papers together, made the stack that had been generated from the Quarrymen's battle in the hospital two weeks ago look like a simple mugging. Elisa had groaned and set to reading, knowing that as soon as Captain Chavez came in at the start of the shift and saw her at work, she'd be hitting the streets to track down every possible lead on this case; she'd better read up on all the data acquired so far, while she was still in the office. That had been three hours ago, and she still hadn't finished going through all the papers; while she'd been sitting there, the remainder of the autopsy reports, another report from Forensics on the bullet shells found at the scene and four more 'witness' statements had come in, and five different city and state officials had called wanting an update on the investigation.

What was she going to tell Goliath about this? That there might or might not be gargoyle imitators gliding through the air at night? That there might or might not be a clan of strange gargoyles in town? That either way, people had died last night and gargoyles were being blamed for it? And she'd have to add that there were definitely fewer Quarrymen tonight than there were last night, but that the Quarrymen were touting the dead men as martyrs to anyone who'd listen; she'd almost bet money that enough outraged citizens had signed up today, under some rallying cry like "Remember the lost defenders!", to replace those men and more.

She could just imagine what Goliath would do the moment she told him, too. He'd have every able-bodied gargoyle out scouring the city, to find the winged people who fought with the Quarrymen last night. And if they were humans wearing flight-capable gargoyle costumes, he'd probably have their wings trashed and the lot of them left tied up somewhere that the police could easily find them. That would be a good thing, too; it would go a long way towards putting out the fires that had sprung up since last night's attack, putting the Gargoyles Task Force in the hot seat. But only IF the perps last night had all been humans. And Elisa had a sick feeling in her stomach, one telling her that at least one gargoyle really had been involved. She couldn't ignore the autopsy report for one of the dead Quarrymen: decapitated, but not from a sharp blade or rotor shard severing the head from the neck. No, the coroner's office was sure that, incredible as it seemed, his head had been _pulled _off by something with claws and superhuman strength…

Demona was capable of doing that, and worse. But if she'd been involved, then what or who the hell were those gargoyle costume scraps from! The Demona that Elisa knew all too well would sooner rip her own eyes out, and wait however long it took for them to grow in again, than work with any costume-wearing human. Unless… that compulsion spell that Demona had hit Goliath with long ago. Suppose she'd found another copy of that spell? And had enslaved some costume-wearing humans, in order to deliberately use them as 'cannon fodder' in a battle with Quarrymen… It was a horrible thought, but Elisa knew from bitter experience that when it came to acts of hatred and malice, with Demona, anything was possible.

And if Demona hadn't been involved, but other real gargoyles were in town, gargoyles who didn't mind killing? Elisa had a sickly feeling what Goliath would do once they were found… He'd probably invite them to join the clan on the spot; where gargoyles were concerned, it was always 'the more, the merrier.' And if she protested that these new gargoyles were responsible for the deaths of eleven people, her mate was just apt to dismiss it all as self-defense; after all, the clan had ample prior evidence of the Quarrymen's lethal intentions. The dismal truth was, the clan needed every able-bodied and breeding-capable gargoyle they could find; even with the four clans that they'd found while on the World Tour, their race was teetering on the edge of extinction. But those Quarrymen hadn't been wooden toy soldiers; they had been men with families, and even if the Quarrymen went away tomorrow, those families would be crying out for justice… justice that Goliath would deny them, if he insisted that the new gargoyles be accepted into the clan.

And what if Jason and/or Robyn had somehow been involved? Elisa couldn't ignore the fact that this battle had occurred just a few days after their release from jail. Was it a mere coincidence, or… had _Jason_ been wearing one of those augmented gargoyle costumes? He'd told her before that if he somehow found himself a free man again, he'd do what he could to make up for his family's millennia-long feud with gargoyles… If was such a crazy, sick idea, but what if he'd decided that the best way to make it up to the clan was to fight for them—physically battling their current foes?

Back during that day-long argument they'd had about the Hunters and their quest, he'd told her that more than a few of his ancestors had taken to the skies, to battle the gargoyles in their own element; from gliders centuries ago, to biplanes in the WWI era, to the sophisticated hovercycles and hovership that Jason and his brother had used against the clan just a few months ago. Elisa could easily imagine Jason strapping himself into some sort of exo-frame with flight capability; his paralyzed legs wouldn't matter much in midair. And of course Robyn would go along, if only out of concern for Jason's well-being; she'd been nearly frantic to be reunited with her brother while they were behind bars but in separate wings of the prison. And Elisa had seen firsthand how strong those exo-frames could be; while he was wearing his battlesuit, Xanatos was as strong as the average gargoyle, though not as strong as Goliath. A man wearing such a battlesuit would find that ripping a man's head right off his shoulders wasn't any harder than ripping open a bag of chips… She had no idea where the Canmores would get such a high-tech device on such short notice, but again, where the Hunters were concerned, nearly anything was possible.

"C'mon, Matt, get your butt in here," Elisa muttered as she took another glance at the clock on the wall. Technically, their shift didn't start for another hour, but she was sure that Matt would be in early to deal with whatever new evidence or complications had come to light during the day. And hopefully, he'd left that note for her because he had more evidence about the attack, information that he hadn't dared put down onto cryptic scraps of paper. Elisa desperately wanted more information, before she told Goliath about _any_ of this unholy mess…

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Some time later…

Brooklyn and Lexington had left the castle roughly half an hour ago, for the first patrol of the night. Brooklyn had been unusually silent so far, and Lex had let him brood, knowing that whatever was bothering him would probably not affect his ability to patrol. And sure enough, five minutes ago, Brooklyn had spotted their first crime-in-progress even before Lexington's sharp eyes had. A standard mugging, using a knife instead of a gun, and Lexington had willingly hung back and let Brooklyn work off whatever was bothering him all over the would-be-mugger's face. But Brook hadn't hurt him too much, really; the guy was already awake when they left, and banging the sides of the dumpster they'd stuffed him into. (But he couldn't get out, because they'd slid wire through the hasps on the lids and tied them shut. His would-be victim had promised to call the police, to give the mugger a proper coming-out party.) Now that they were up in the air again, Lexington turned to Brooklyn and said simply, "You want to talk about it?"

"Ehhhh… not really."

Lexington waited, silently counting down. Eight… seven… six…

At Lex's mental 'two', Brooklyn admitted, "I'm just… all right, dammit, I'm tired of being single! I know it's no good thinking about the past, but if the massacre hadn't happened, we'd probably have chosen our mates by now!"

"If the massacre hadn't happened, we'd probably be **_dust_** by now," Lex corrected him. "Gotta live in the **_now_**, bro…"

"Yeah, and right _now_, there's only one female, and she's chosen Broadway!" Brooklyn retorted.

It was true, Angela had basically chosen Broadway… but that was before yesterday, Lexington thought to himself. Broadway had said that Angela had put a condition on their mating… Broadway had to lose weight first. A lot of weight, too, and she'd said it was so they could be sure that he could catch her on the breeding flights. If Broadway's wings never fully recovered, if he ended up clumsy and slow in the sky… Would Angela be coldly practical and choose someone else for a mate? Or would Brooklyn just be asked to 'substitute' for Broadway on the breeding flights alone? But those were awful thoughts, and Lexington didn't want to even think them again, let alone say them aloud.

Unaware of what was going through Lexington's mind just then, Brooklyn persisted, "C'mon, doesn't that bother you at all!"

"What, that she didn't choose me? To tell the truth, I'd already pretty much decided not to even try courting Angela; not long after she set us all straight about courting her, actually. I mean, sure, she's pretty, she's smart, and she's as brave as any of us, but beyond that, she and I have almost nothing in common beyond the fact that we both turn to stone at sunrise. I mean, she reads everything she can get her hands on, but I've tried at least half a dozen times to get her interested in modern technology, and she could care less about computers or robotics. As eager as she is to go exploring more of the world, she could pretty much care less about exploring cyberspace! She'd rather spend over an hour looking through books in the library to get information than five minutes looking for it online, even after I streamlined a search engine for her." Lex shook his head in bafflement. "It beats me how she could be so much like Goliath, when they never even met each other until last year. Maybe those human psychologists are right when they say some personality traits are inherited, not learned."

Brooklyn smiled crookedly. "So in other words, Angela's not quite good enough for you. Better not let Goliath hear you say that."

"You said it, not me!" Lex protested. "It's not that she's not good enough; she's just… not my type."

Brooklyn pointed out, "You weren't thinking that way when she first arrived…"

"Well, no, but back then I didn't really know her! I kind-of just got caught up in the competition," Lexington admitted. "Once that wore off… well, she's nice enough, but we just don't go together. I know not everyone can be as enthusiastic about this new technology as I am, but I'm not going to spend my life with a mate who doesn't at least appreciate my interests."

"Well, Lex, maybe you'll find a mate in one of those, whaddayacallem, chatter rooms."

"That's 'chat rooms'. And I've got several friends there already, but I'm not going to start looking for a mate among the humans just yet, okay? Remember, Goliath told us about those other clans out there in Japan and Guatemala, and we already met Griff from the clan in London! So I'm not giving up hope of finding a mate someday, and neither should you; it could be that one of those clans has the right female just waiting for you!"

Brooklyn snorted again. "Maybe… but there's a logistics problem involved. As in, all those clans you mentioned are _thousands of miles away_ from our territory; there won't be any simple two-night journeys to intermingle on the Equinoxes! What are you thinking, that a female is going to just drop right out of the sky?"

And right after as Brooklyn said that, they heard a high-pitched, feminine shriek, coming from somewhere above them. Startled, Lex turned to Brooklyn, to find him looking back just as startled; a mutual look of 'Did you hear what I just heard?' Then they both turned to look upwards… just in time to see a swift blur of golden form come crashing down, right onto Brooklyn!

Brooklyn and whatever had hit him tumbled out of the sky in a tangle of arms and legs, and for a moment Lex was so stunned he just hovered there gaping like a hatchling. By the time he'd recovered his senses and glided down to the rooftop where they'd ended up, the tangle had resolved itself: Brooklyn was lying on his back on the rooftop, while a golden female gargoyle was crouched over him, effectively pinning him down while chattering excitedly, "You're here, you're real, really real! This is _wonderful_! My name's Rebecca, what's yours? And please, _please_ be single!"

Brooklyn said dazedly as Lex came swooping in, "I'm Brooklyn. I'm single. And I'm dreaming this, right?"

"This is _better_ than a dream!" the female said as she hugged him fiercely. "I've been waiting my whole _life_ to find you!"

"R-really?" Brooklyn gasped, his eyes bugging out, either from sheer surprise or from lack of oxygen while crushed in her enthusiastic grip.

Lexington backwinged to a gentle landing next to them, and discreetly cleared his throat before saying, "Clear skies to you tonight; I'm Lexington."

"Oh, sorry!" the female said as she scrambled off of Brooklyn and came over to give Lexington a swift hug (though not as enthusiastically as the way she'd hugged Brooklyn, Lex noted; he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.) "I'm Rebecca; well met by starlight!"

Now that she was upright and Lexington got a good look at her, he decided she was actually quite pretty, though in a far different way than Angela; where Angela was lavender in hue, Rebecca was yellow-gold, and where Angela's sable mane was kept neatly tied back, Rebecca's copper-red mane was a riot of curls bouncing in nearly all directions. The females' wings were the same configuration, but not their bodies; where Angela was tall and lushly curvaceous, Rebecca was no taller than Lexington and definitely petite in build. And where Angela's face was beautiful even by human standards, Rebecca had a beak almost as prominent as Brooklyn's… but when she grinned, like she was grinning now, she really was pretty. Then Lexington mentally gave himself a tail-swat; there were more important things to think about right now! "So, Rebecca, what clan are you from? And is anyone else with you?"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

"Just imagine… a book written entirely about us, and our clan!" Hudson marveled as he and Goliath soared through the night sky, on a course for Jeffrey Robbins' place.

"One that speaks of us as we truly are, instead of calling us demons and monsters," Goliath sighed happily. Then he looked over at Hudson a little wryly. "But you do realize that this won't be quite as momentous an occasion as it would have been back in our old time. In this era, books are printed by the thousands if not millions, every day… and with the use of computers and other machines, instead of writing and binding everything by hand, Jeffrey will likely not have to devote his entire life to it, as the monks used to do."

"Ach, I know all that; Jeffrey explained it to me before," Hudson said with a wave of his hand. "But 'tis still a wondrous thing! As ye said, a book that tells other humans what we're really like, instead of all the lies those Quarrymen have been spouting… that can only be good for our clan and our kind!"

"Good indeed," Goliath agreed, but a trifle absently; his attention had just been caught by a winged shape far below them, gliding to the north. What was Brooklyn doing gliding in that direction instead of the agreed-upon patrol route, and why wasn't Lexington with him? Then he took another look… and gasped. That wasn't Brooklyn! The body was as slim as his second-in-command's, but the wings were the wrong type and the hide was dark brown instead of brick red!

Goliath doubled back to follow the stranger, nearly blocking Hudson's glide path in the process. "_Hoy_! Lad, what's wrong!" Hudson demanded after he pulled up sharply to avoid a midair collision.

"Look! Another gargoyle!" Goliath said as he pointed below them.

Hudson looked where he was pointing, and gasped in astonished delight. "A newcomer! Ach, can this night get any better?" he asked rhetorically as he started to glide down to meet the stranger.

"Wait!" Goliath cautioned, before Hudson had descended more than a few yards. "Let's follow him first. I'm as eager to meet new friends as you are, my mentor… but after Thailog and the clones…"

"Aye, you're right; best to be a bit cautious," Hudson sighed, as he came back up to Goliath's level and matched his path.

Together they tracked the stranger, who was moving at a fast clip; followed him clear out of Manhattan, and into the Bronx. A few minutes after passing into that borough, they saw that the stranger was heading straight for a Gothic-looking church… and that someone was waiting on the roof for him. A man clad in priest's vestments, and making use of a pair of binoculars… which, they saw as they came closer, were being aimed more in their direction, instead of on the stranger's level, roughly a hundred feet below them. And a second after Goliath realized that, the man gave a start, then while still holding the binoculars up with one hand, waved the other hand wildly at them. Then he let the binoculars drop on their cord, and gestured a wide welcome at them with both hands, and with an equally welcoming grin on his face.

Well, since he'd obviously seen them… Goliath and Hudson shrugged at each other, then descended together, falling in a few yards behind the strange gargoyle. Who backwinged to a landing on the church's roof, still oblivious to their presence, as he called out to the human (and his voice had a slight, peculiar accent,) "What's wrong… or right? You sounded _très_ urgent and upset before we were cut off when my battery died, but now you're grinning like a child at Christmas! Did you find the location of the city's clan?"

The man's eyes widened in surprise… then he grinned even wider. "Well, not quite…"

"But you've got something. Then you're doing better than I have; two nights of gliding to all nearly points in the city, and not so much as a stone shard of evidence."

"Not so much as a stone shard," the man repeated, with a definite mischievous tone. "Tell me, Adam, in all your searching, did you ever think to look… behind you?"

The gargoyle whipped around, just as Goliath and Hudson landed together on the roof behind him. "Wha—_ha hah_! I should have guessed that you'd find us first!" He came up to them with arm outstretched for a warrior's greeting, and a grin just as wide as his companion's. "Well met by starlight; I am Adam, of the New Orleans Clan!"

"Clear skies to you tonight," Goliath said formally as they clasped forearms, making note of the phrase 'well met by starlight'; it appeared to be this new clan's version of the 'clear skies' greeting. "I am Goliath, leader of the Manhattan Clan, and this is Hudson."

"And this is Father Maurice DuBois, also of my clan," Adam said as he gestured the priest forward; Goliath was pleased to note that the human knew warrior's greeting etiquette, grasping forearms instead of shaking hands. Adam continued, "We came to New York to see if the rumors were true, and lo and behold, we've found kin at last! Or you found us… how long have you been following me? Oh, never mind that; how long has your clan dwelt here? How many do you number? Did you really live in that old clocktower, and was anyone lost in the explosion? Where do you--"

"Adam, Adam," Father Maurice interrupted with a grin, "I haven't heard you babble on so in decades! Our new friends can scarcely get a word in edgewise. Come," as he beckoned to them all, "Let's go inside and have some tea, to take the chill off while discussing clan affairs. I know you're not bothered by the cold, but these old bones can feel it all too keenly."

Goliath and Hudson agreed, and they followed Father Maurice and Adam through the hatch and down a few flights of stairs. They entered a small room that looked to be normally used for storage, but now had a space heater, a hot plate, a table and a mixed set of folding chairs and stools set up inside. It was reminiscent of the clan's old living quarters in the clocktower, and Goliath had a hunch that the church's congregation was no more aware of a gargoyle's presence above them than the 23rd Police Precinct had been.

Father Maurice busied himself with a teapot on the hot plate, while Adam invited Goliath and Hudson to take seats on the high stools at the table. Goliath took the opportunity to look the strangers over more closely, both human and gargoyle. Father Maurice looked to be of fairly advanced age, an equivalent to Hudson, though in decent shape; his neatly trimmed hair had gone entirely to white and his lean Caucasian face bore some wrinkles, but many more laugh lines than frown lines. Adam had a chocolate-brown hide, black curly mane cropped at the shoulders, and facial features that were so lacking in prominent ridges on brow, chin or cheekbone that he almost looked like a human; on a gargoyle, such soft features appeared immature, like he was still a hatchling. But judging by the subtle beginnings of wrinkles and by the rest of his body, Goliath estimated that Adam was middle-aged, in his eighties; a hatching generation beyond Goliath's age, but still decades ahead of Hudson's venerable years.

After they were seated and Maurice announced that the tea would be ready in about ten minutes, Adam asked his friend, "Where are Rebecca and Marcel? They'll be overjoyed to meet our kinsmen… are they inside the truck, tinkering with the 'cycle again?"

A teaspoon clattered to the floor as Maurice turned to face them, his own face gone pale with dismay and fear. "_Poo-yaille_, I can't believe I forgot even for an instant! Adam, Rebecca slipped out while we weren't looking; we fear she's gone out to search again, without paint _or_ radio!"

"_She **what**_" Adam overturned his chair as he leaped to his feet, his tail lashing in agitation. "That foolish, stubborn… Excuse me, kinsmen, but I've a wayward female to find, before those_ fils de putains_ Quarrymen do!"

Goliath and Hudson leaped to their feet, preparing to follow Adam right out the door, galvanized to action at the thought of a lone female stumbling into a Quarryman patrol. Goliath told Adam while waving his communicator, "Give us a rough description, and we can have our entire clan looking for her!"

Adam paused at the doorway, but before he could say anything, everyone clearly heard a creaking noise coming from above, accompanied by a female voice crying joyously, "_I found them_!"

Adam heaved a great sigh and rolled his eyes at the ceiling, as he slumped against the nearest wall in mingled relief and resignation. Goliath had a distinct feeling that this particular female had a history of giving Adam worrisome nights, and he fought to hold back a knowing smile as they all heard the clatter of many taloned footsteps down the same stairs that Goliath had come down only minutes before. Still unseen, the female was crying out gaily, "Father Maurice, Marcel, I found them! And I brought two of them back with me!" Seconds later, the door opened and a petite golden female practically bounced through, while dragging Brooklyn behind her by the arm, and with Lexington following right after. "Everyone, meet—_oh_!" as she stopped in her tracks at sight of Goliath and Hudson. "Oh, you found some of them too!"

"Actually, they found us," Adam said gently from where he was still standing, beside the door. The female, who simply had to be the Rebecca who had caused Adam such stress, whirled around to face him… then let go of Brooklyn's arm and shrank back as Adam, without moving a muscle, seemed to loom over her. "And we were just about to go out and find you," Adam continued, his voice still soft… but gaining a terrible edge. "Because you went out… without blackening body-paint… without a radio… and against. My. Orders."

Rebecca dropped to her knees and let her wings droop until they touched the floor, but dared to lift her face to her clan leader (and Goliath had no doubt that was Adam's role, not after what he'd just seen) and said with tearful defiance, "B-but we had to find them! And New York is just too big for one gargoyle to search alone! But I went high, higher than a falcon, and just watched and waited for movement, and at that height, I'd have seen any humans on mechanical flyers long before they'd have seen me!"

Every other gargoyle in the room was trying very hard to pretend that they weren't there; it tended to be embarrassing, to be present when a clan leader was having harsh words with someone else. But Brooklyn gave Goliath a quick, desperate glance, seeming to ask a question with his eyes. Goliath didn't know what Brooklyn had in mind, but he gave a flicker of his right wing-talon; he trusted his second-in-command's judgment in most situations. Brooklyn took that as permission to do whatever he had planned, for he cleared his throat and took a half-step forward, saying, "Excuse me… you would be Adam, Rebecca's clan leader? She spoke of you to us while we were gliding here. I'm Brooklyn; the Manhattan Clan's second-in-command… and this is my rookery brother Lexington."

Adam turned to them with a rueful look and an outstretched arm for a warrior's greeting. "I am Adam… and I apologize for our little scene here."

"(Ahem) well, it's understandable; you have every right to be furious at a warrior who blatantly ignored your orders. But Rebecca told us about how you had been delayed in your journey here by nearly two weeks, and feared that by the time you arrived in Manhattan, the Quarrymen would have killed us all. I have to admit that if I was in her situation, I would have given hard thought to going out to join in the search for lost kinsmen, even if ordered to stay inside... There are times when a gargoyle's _soul_ gives orders that just can't be denied. And in truth, she was gliding extremely high; she came at us from so far above we had no idea she was there until she surprised us. At that height, it wouldn't be too hard to see an approaching Quarryman helicopter and power-dive to get well away from them before they could get within effective range."

Goliath was silently impressed at Brooklyn's diplomatic skills, in defending a female he didn't know against a clan leader he didn't know either, and managing to do so without giving overt offense to either. Adam folded his arms and sighed, gave Brooklyn a wry smile, then turned that wry smile on Rebecca and said simply, "Sweeping duties, from now until we return home. Now go help Father Maurice prepare more tea for all our guests, hm?"

"_Mais oui, chef de clan_!" Rebecca said gaily as she shot to her feet again, and bounded over to where Maurice was busying himself at the counter. And she gave Brooklyn such an adoring look as she got to her feet, and cast so many admiring glances at him over her shoulder as she helped Father Maurice find more teacups and such for them all, that Goliath felt moved to casually sidle over to Adam and say under his breath, "Brooklyn is unmated…"

"So is Rebecca," Adam muttered back, with a small smile as he glanced over at where Brooklyn was standing. "Though perhaps not for much longer…?"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

The computer was a wondrous device, and Galena wanted to play with it some more, but after showing her some maps on it, _Señora_ Demona had gently told her that she had some important work to do with it. But she gave Galena some paper from another device and some pens in different colors, so Galena could draw pictures while waiting for something else to happen.

Galena drew a picture of the whole world as she'd seen it on the computer screen, with lots of blue and green and brown, and some white for clouds… It didn't look quite right in the drawing, but perhaps _Señora_ Demona would let her have another look at the computer's picture when the adult was done with her work. It was still amazing; to think of how far away she was going to be going, in just a little while longer! She was sad about having to leave behind the new friends she had made last night; Ramona and Isabel had been nice, and even the boys had been okay. But Señor Yama had said that there would be many hatchlings in the new clan, children just like her; it would be wonderful to have somebody really like herself to play with! Someone who stayed up all night too, instead of going to sleep before the night was half over; someone who was her age and would _stay_ her age, instead of growing up so much faster than her. She'd had friends back in the village, too, but by the time she'd left, Carmen, Felicia and Anica had all been much more interested in giggling over boys than in playing with dolls and other games, and all too often she'd been alone with only her doll Carlotta to play with.

Galena drew another picture, this one of _Señora_ Demona herself. She needed more blue to do it right… The blue lady gargoyle was so nice, even if she was scary sometimes. But it was a good kind of scary, the protecting kind, like her mama had explained to her long ago. Many humans were scared of gargoyles, because they had been told that gargoyles were monsters. But that was because the people who'd told them that had been bad people, who had been in fights with gargoyles because they wanted to do something bad; people like the drug makers and drug runners, who kept trying to force the people of the village to make or transport drugs for them. But Mama and Papa had always either scared them away, or killed and buried them, before the bad people could do bad things to their friends. Galena wasn't supposed to know about the dead men yet, but she'd surprised her Mama last year while burying one of them, and Mama had explained it all to her; sometimes, when the men were really bad and couldn't be scared off, they had to be killed instead, like a mad dog before it bit someone and the rabies spread. And last night, _Señora_ Demona had killed or scared away lots of really, _really_ bad men, people even worse than the drug men back home. Galena had always wanted to be just like Mama when she grew up… but now she decided she'd rather be just like _Señora_ Demona. She was so pretty, and so kind, and such a fierce protector too…

Just as Galena was finishing her drawing, Señora Demona stood up from her desk and said something, and Carlos told them all it was time to go out the window and down to where the van was waiting; the one that would take them to Carlos' cousins and to another house before going to the airplane that would fly them all away. Galena nodded, drew one last heart on her picture, then handed it to Señora Demona for a gift. The señora got tears in her eyes, but she was smiling too; she stroked Galena's hair with a talon and kissed her cheek, and said something to her, which Carlos translated with a smile: "#She said it's a lovely picture, and she will treasure it always.#"

"#Please tell her, I want to be just like her when I grow up,#" Galena said to Carlos. And when he did, this time Señora Demona actually choked back a sob before hugging Galena so tight she could hardly breathe.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Back in the Bronx, Lexington had found a stool to perch on, and sat back to observe all the goings-on in this first meeting between clans. Five minutes after Rebecca had led them here, a middle-aged man named Marcel had shown up, after Father Maurice had radioed him to let him know that Rebecca had returned safe and sound. It was obvious to Lexington that this new clan from New Orleans was more comfortable with humans than the old Wyvern clan had ever been; Marcel and Rebecca were as close as rookery kin, just as Father Maurice and Adam the leader seemed to be. As soon as he'd arrived, Marcel had chewed Rebecca up one side and down the other, lots of it in a French-sounding dialect that Lex was sure was Cajun talk, but enough of it in English for them to get the gist of it. He'd evidently been out there freezing his tail off, riding around on the motorcycle trying to find her after she'd sneaked off to look for gargoyles again, even after she'd gotten herself shot by Quarrymen the night before (Shot! She hadn't mentioned that before, and Goliath and Brooklyn had both nearly jumped in to demand more details, but visibly restrained themselves.) Hadn't Adam throwing away her special body-paint during the day (during the day! Lexington decided he must have misheard that) been enough a clue that she was supposed to stay put? But _nooo_, she had to go out on her own, without a radio, and bright gold as a canary; why hadn't she just pinned a target to her chest and a "Please shoot me" sign on her tail!

But where Rebecca had cringed in submission at Adam's rebuke, she just gave Marcel a sheepish grin before introducing him to Brooklyn. Whereupon Marcel had looked Brooklyn over, nodded grudging approval, and informed Brooklyn that if he ever broke his little Becky's heart, he'd wake up one evening to find himself buried up to the neck in mud, deep in the bayou. And at Adam's half-laughing rebuke that Marcel shouldn't talk like that to their guests, Marcel replied, " 'Ey, I don' say I bury him all de way, do I?"

Even Goliath had smothered a smile at the exchange, though Brooklyn still looked kind of dazed, as if he still wasn't sure that he wasn't still stuck in a dream somehow. The dazed look didn't go away when Rebecca finished with the tea preparations, and after cups and mugs were passed all around, deliberately pulled up a seat next to Brooklyn and eased herself so close to him, he just about had to raise a wing to accommodate her. And sure enough, as soon as his wing shifted up and back, she snuggled in closer like it had been an invitation, and smiled adoringly up at him.

Lexington found himself jealous of his rookery brother. How come the ladies always looked to Brooklyn instead of him! In the next instant, he rebuked himself for the lie; less than an hour ago, Brooklyn had been the one to complain about being single. Maggie had turned him down flat even before choosing Talon, and while Angela might have considered him for a while, she had now obviously chosen Broadway. No, it was just the way that this one pretty little female was just swarming all over Brooklyn, while barely casting a glance in Lex's direction…

Lex sighed, reminded himself that while jealousy might be natural it never _ever_ helped, and tried to find something else to focus on. Marcel and Rebecca were both focused on Brooklyn, so he worked his way into the conversation between Adam, Father Maurice and his own clan leader and elder. Adam told them that the New Orleans Clan had a total of forty-seven gargoyles and seventy-nine humans, and Lexington was impressed again. Not at the size of the clan; forty-seven might be nearly seven times the size of the current Manhattan Clan proper, but the old clan in medieval Scotland had numbered nearly twice that. No, Lexington was impressed at how humans were counted not just as clan allies, but as full-fledged clan members. In Manhattan, while they had many allies, only Elisa was officially counted as a clan member now…

… Was his own clan _prejudiced_! The thought had never occurred to Lexington before, but now that it had, he couldn't help but wonder and worry. The Labyrinth Clan that made its home beneath the streets of New York had not only cloned gargoyles and mutates as members, but at least a dozen people from the core of the human population down there as well; Whenever he visited, Lex saw them all working side-by-side with hardly a qualm. While he and his close kin had grown up in an age of intolerance, they had somewhat prided themselves on being more accepting of the humans in old Scotland than the humans were of them. But compared to this modern age, were they really that tolerant after all?

Oh, of course they were! So they hadn't accepted Xanatos, Owen and Fox as full members yet; that was because it was pretty hard to fully accept people who'd been doing their level best to destroy or cage you less than a year ago. If they behaved themselves for another year, surely they'd be declared full clan at an Equinox festival or whenever. Matt would surely become a full member if he'd come to live at the castle with them, or at least visit more often, and Anne and her daughter Bethany were already effectively full members; it just hadn't been recognized formally yet, not like Hudson had formally recognized Elisa as clan even before the wedding. The Manhattan Clan was plenty tolerant! No worries about their turning out to be as racist as Demona…

And why was his mind wandering like this! Shards, in the middle of a first meeting between clans! He shook his head slightly and refocused again. While Lexington had been off chasing moonbeams, the conversation between the elders had somehow shifted to talk of the clans that Goliath had found elsewhere in the world. But it was all information that Lexington had heard before, and soon his attention began to drift again. He found himself studying Adam more closely; there was something odd, something not-quite-right about that other clan leader, but Lex couldn't quite pinpoint it. It wasn't that Adam's black mane was made of tight curls; that was unusual, but one of Lexington's long-dead rookery sisters had been hatched with a mane like that, except for being red instead of black. Maybe it was the face? Adam's face was so soft it was almost hatchling-like, with its lack of prominent ridges anywhere; if somebody glued some bits of fur onto those tiny brow ridges he had, to make them look like human eyebrows, he'd could probably pass as a human from the neck up. But there was something else… something else, but Lexington couldn't quite put his talons on it…

Talons…

"**_Five_**!"

Lexington had blurted that word out during a momentary lull in the conversation, and immediately all eyes turned on him, in surprise, curiosity and/or admonishment. Goliath was giving him just such a look, as he said patiently, "No, there were four. Only four members left of the Guatemalan clan, as--"

"No, you don't understand; _five talons_!" Lexington blurted out, blushing but unable to stop himself from pointing and staring like a hatchling. "Adam has five talons on each hand!"

And immediately, all eyes turned from Lexington's face to Adam's hands. Adam heaved a great sigh, and obligingly held one of his hands up for everyone to see, splaying the talons wide enough to make it plain to even the most casual observer. "And my wings have an extra section in them," he informed them as he also flexed his left wing out, to show that his bat-style wings did indeed have one more vane and membrane in them than Goliath's wings did. He added dryly, "And yes, I was hatched this way."

"Adam's the Third Miracle," Rebecca told them, as if that explained everything, which it didn't. Then she added fiercely, "And everyone agrees he's the best clan leader we've had in centuries!"

"Thank you, Rebecca," Adam said with a wry smile. "Your support is appreciated."

Goliath was leaning forward and staring at Adam with wonder in his eyes, as he breathed, "Can it be? Are you…?"

Adam didn't seem to appreciate the scrutiny, shifting back on his stool, but met Goliath's eyes squarely as he said simply, "Half human." Then, with a wry twist to his lips, he recited to the room at large, "Yes, my father was a human. No, I'm the only one. Yes, there are other differences. I can stay awake during the day if I try hard enough. But yes, I turn to stone as soon as I fall asleep. No, I don't awaken before sunset. I've only stayed awake long enough to see a sunset once, and while it was beautiful, staying awake that long was agony. Yes, I age faster than the average gargoyle, but slower than the average human. My egg hatched three years before the others in my rookery. Maurice and I are the same age, sixty-six years old." He stopped then, and gave all the Manhattan Clan a gimlet eye as he said, "I trust that answers all potential questions?"

Goliath's look of hope and wonder had turned to a frown halfway through the recitation, but he said nothing. Hudson combed his beard with his talons as he eyed Adam shrewdly, then said, "No more questions yet, lad… but I'm sure we'll think of some later. And we'll ask them in a most civil fashion, too…"

Adam looked away, then back at Hudson with a wry smile. "My apologies. I should be used to it by now, but each new human to become an ally to the clan stares the same way, and asks the same questions, and it's more than a little irritating. I really should have been more prepared for such stares from fellow gargoyles, and more civil in return…"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Heinrich hadn't heard anyone nearby for over fifteen minutes, and he decided that it was probably safe to come out now. He'd already packed his bags, and now he eased open the lid and looked around, to make sure the coast was clear before tossing his bags out and climbing out after them. He hoped he could sneak out of the ship without attracting any notice; the way he was feeling right now, he was in no shape for either a good fight or a fast flight.

Why had he been feeling so lethargic and awful lately? Heinrich had never had so much as a cold in his life, but right now he felt like Karl and Andrea looked whenever they were laid up with illness. Was it the forced inactivity? While Heinrich had sneaked out of his crate almost every night of the two week journey, cautiously exploring the ship's cargo hold, he hadn't even tried to get outside and go flying. Or was it the lack of sunlight during the day? Before he'd died years ago, Gregor had theorized why his winged children had always been trying to sneak onto the roof before dawn, until he'd installed a large skylight in the attic; he'd decided they were instinctively seeking a perch that would let them soak up sunlight during the day. If Gregor had been right, and the sun that gargoyles never saw was somehow important to their health after all, then that would explain why Heinrich was feeling so poorly; he'd been sleeping in darkness for the last two weeks. Well, hopefully he could muster enough energy to glide to some place where he could roost in safety and soak up some sunlight tomorrow.

Keeping to the shadows and moving with the stealth born of long practice at dodging Communist patrols, Heinrich managed to sneak off the ship, escape the shipyard and scale the fence surrounding it. After seeing a few signs and consulting the booklet of maps for New York that Karl had bought for him, Heinrich determined that he was in Brooklyn. But the NYPD 23rd Precinct that the news article had mentioned was in Manhattan, across the East River. Ordinarily, he'd have no problem gliding across a river, but tonight, the way he was feeling, such a long glide would be out of the question. So how would he get there?

He dodged back into the shadows as a pair of headlights approached, and waited until the vehicle, a delivery truck, had passed by. And once it had, he emerged from the shadows with a sly grin, and a plan.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Matt arrived at the Aerie Building with his tie in one hand and his comb in the other, still trying to get dressed and still cursing himself for oversleeping. When he got the station, he fully expected to find that his desk had collapsed under the weight of all the paperwork that had accumulated in the last twelve hours, and Captain Chavez was ready to nail his ass to the wall and bust him down to beat patrol if he didn't produce some results ASAP. But first, he absolutely had to see David Xanatos… not only was Xanatos higher up in the Illuminati, and more apt to have information on any possible Illuminati connection to last night's battle, but he was the man who'd had those gargoyle costumes created in the first place, and he'd probably know if any had been specially made to incorporate flight capability.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

"Detective Bluestone has arrived in the lobby, sir," Owen reported as he walked into Xanatos' inner office.

"It's about time; I expected him to show up hours ago," Xanatos murmured, as he unconsciously patted a folder on his desk. A folder that Xanatos had prepared that morning, after hearing about what had happened last night.

Three weeks ago, a Xanatos Enterprises warehouse by the docks had been broken into just before dawn; the security systems installed there hadn't been able to prevent these very determined thieves from getting inside, but they had alerted the nearest police precinct that a break-in was in progress. The thieves had fled the scene in a black van when the police had arrived, after having apparently filled the van with their stolen goods: six laptop computers, two industrial low-level laser setups, four spectrum analyzers, and two programmable multi-function power supplies; at least, that was all that had been discovered missing during the inventory afterwards.

The folder on Xanatos' desk now held an updated inventory list, with a few more items missing. In particular, a trio of experimental personal jetpacks, much like the one that Xanatos himself used from time to time. And the exclusive boutique that had sold those top-of-the-line, electronically enhanced gargoyle costumes with controllable wings and tail, would find themselves missing three such costumes from their inventory and no idea of exactly when they had been taken.

These days, Xanatos preferred to stay within the law in his business dealings; while it made some necessary transactions much harder at first, it really did make things easier in the long run. No concerns about keeping track of who was being blackmailed versus bribed; no tracking cover-ups and worrying about who was sniffing too close to where the bodies were buried. There were still some long-ago illegal dealings that he had to keep a lid on, but other than that, things really were easier now. Yesterday, he would have proudly asserted to any other Illuminati member that the private account he called his 'bribe fund' hadn't been touched in weeks.

But when it came to dealings that concerned the clan… It was damned hard sometimes, protecting people who had no legal recognition, let alone legal protection. But he owed them his son's life, not to mention owed them for the way he'd treated them for years before, so if protecting them meant breaking a few little regulations and telling a few little white lies, then so be it. He had no real qualms about that, any more than Detectives Maza and Bluestone had qualms about protecting the clan from official retribution for their 'vigilante' tactics. (In truth, he probably had far fewer qualms than they did.) While the Illuminati may have painfully hobbled him in what he could do to ensure the clan survived and thrived, they hadn't prevented him from taking care of his own business dealings… such as correcting an inventory listing. And giving Owen a few thousand bucks from the 'bribe fund' to give to an …_understanding_ police clerk, who promised to see that the new inventory list was quietly put into the correct file back at the precinct. And making similar arrangements at the costume boutique.

Xanatos actually had no idea of who was involved in that battle at the docks last night, though he strongly suspected that Demona was involved somehow; his corporate spies at Nightstone had reported that Dominique Destine was back in her office after a week's absence, and had issued some rather bizarre orders today. But he was more than willing to contribute to the theory that costume-wearing humans had been involved, instead of real gargoyles; anything to see that the threat to the clan, and incidentally his own home, was diminished.

But it could well be that Bluestone had more information than had filtered into the castle via radio, television and the newspapers; items that had been either shut off or tossed into the trash before the clan woke up. Xanatos would wait until he came in and they had a chance to talk privately, before telling the clan anything; they had enough concerns already. (There was always the chance that one of the clan would overhear something or chance upon a newspaper while on their patrols, but Xanatos was sure he could talk his way out of any unpleasantness.)

When Bluestone arrived, Xanatos would let him know about the changes in inventories; it just wouldn't do to confuse the people most likely to find out who was _really_ behind last night's PR disaster. There was some minor concern over how much Bluestone would object to those little white lies, but… well, a few more minutes would answer that question. Xanatos sighed, loosened his tie, then settled back to wait.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

"Next stop, Brooklyn!" Vinnie announced as he put the van into gear and drove it out of the Nightstone building's parking garage. The girl-gargoyle in the back gave a cheer of sheer excitement, and the other four gargoyles in the back smiled at her enthusiasm.

Vinnie had played tour guide a couple of times before, for relatives who'd come visiting from out of town, so he was happy to point out some of the sights to Carlos, who was sitting in the front passenger seat. "This area's known as Chinatown, even if these days the folks here are only about half of 'em Chinese. Lots of Dominicans, Filipinos, Vietnamese, Puerto Ricans, and probably a lot of Mexican folk too. You throw a rock in here, it'll prob'ly land next to a restaurant; they got all kinds, about every food you can think of… That's City Hall over there, and the park across the street is City Hall Park, naturally. A teacher told me once they used to hold public executions in that park, but these days you mostly see press conferences being held there, and public demonstrations against this or that…. And here's the Brooklyn Bridge! This bridge is over a hundred years old now; they've made commemorative stamps an' everything. Back when it was first built, it was, like, one of the modern wonders of the world; the biggest and baddest—whah!"

"_¿Que?_" Carlos had been looking out the passenger-side window, but now he turned to look at Vinnie with concern.

"I thought I saw… ah, never mind," Vinnie said with a shrug. "Some of these trucks have some pretty funky advertising signs on them. Wouldja believe, there's a pest exterminator that drives around with a giant metal cockroach on the roof of his truck!"

Carlos snorted in amusement, and went back to looking at the scenery. Vinnie kept on driving, having already decided that it would be for the best if he didn't mention what he thought he'd just seen: a gargoyle clinging to the top of an eighteen-wheeler, going the opposite direction on the bridge, from Brooklyn into Manhattan. There was no place to turn around until they reached Brooklyn, and by that time who knew where the gargoyle, if it really had been a real gargoyle, would be? And there wouldn't be all night to look for him, either; these people were supposed to be on a plane by midnight.

Vinnie eased his conscience by reminding himself that if it had been a gargoyle, it was probably a member of the local clan, who was already wise to the Quarrymen and knew how to take care of himself. It was more important right now to get the kid gargoyle to safety; 'women and children first', and all that.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

"Well, it looks like they were in the castle all this time, after all," Father Maurice muttered to Adam, who was carrying him through the night air on their glide to the Manhattan Clan's home. "Perhaps not the wisest decision, considering all the attention this building has received lately…"

"You know as well as I do how hard it is for a gargoyle to leave a home behind," Adam muttered back to him. "And at least they managed to lure that Quarryman helicopter away from it last night, before engaging in that battle that we read about in the papers this morning. …That's assuming, of course, that the ones fighting last night really were this clan, and not gargoyle imitators as the paper suggested…"

"Do you intend to ask?" Maurice whispered.

"After as many _gaffes_ as I've made already tonight?" Adam rolled his eyes. "I intend to keep my mouth shut as much as I can, thank you." He was just thankful that his momentary and quite rude burst of bitter resignation, at being stared at like a freak yet again, had been forgiven immediately.

Very shortly afterwards, Goliath had suggested that instead of staying in the church, Adam and the others could come to the Manhattan Clan's home, where they could meet the rest of the clan. Adam had accepted immediately, and now they were just a few thousand yards away from that 'castle in the sky', the center of an escort of honor. Rebecca flew alongside him, though gliding far closer to Brooklyn than to Adam, and Marcel was being carried in Brooklyn's arms. Leading them in flight, Goliath reached for that radio device around his neck and called ahead to the castle, to let whoever was inside know that they had company coming.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Inside the castle, Broadway had spiraled far down into a well of depression, despite Angela's best attempts to cheer him up. She'd even managed to bake him a batch of brownies, all by herself in the kitchen… but he'd just shoved the platter of steaming-hot and aromatic brownies away, before turning to stare at the wall again. And after she finally crouched beside the chair and literally begged him to say something to her, he said only, "Angela… maybe you'd better choose somebody else."

"Choose… oh, Broadway, don't talk like that!"

"I have to," he'd said heavily. "Because, let's face it, I may never be able to fly as well as you, not now… And if I can't, then--"

Angela had physically hushed him, putting her hand over his mouth as she said fiercely, "_Don't say that_! You can't give up hope, Broadway, not when we haven't even begun your physical therapy yet! I don't want to hear even one despairing word from you, understand! Not one word! You have to be positive about this, to _know_ you'll be in the air again eventually! You have to **_know_** that!"

"But--"

"_No buts! _Not one negative word!" she'd interrupted him fiercely. "I am **_not_** going to hear it!" And with that, she'd stalked out of the room, to stand on the battlements and stare out at the city for a while.

She was still out there minutes later when Broadway called out to her, with real excitement in his voice. "Angela, Goliath just called--we have company coming! More gargoyles! He said they're on their way here now, coming from the Bronx!"

"From the north?" Angela turned around and hurried for the northern battlements, as Broadway hurried out to join her. And sure enough, there were silhouettes in the sky, headed their way; the four members of her clan that had been out, and a few more!

Both gargoyles waved excitedly to the newcomers, even before any details could be discerned. Angela's waving faltered, when they came close enough that she and Broadway could see that the one gliding so close to Brooklyn's flight path was a female… But she and Broadway were both smiling in welcome as they landed on the castle.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Deep inside the castle, in Xanatos' office, he and Matt Bluestone paused in their discussion to look at what was showing on the security monitor, from the north-facing cameras. "One gold one—female, apparently—and one that's a very dark color… dark brown," Xanatos mused aloud. "And two humans, too… What were your descriptions again?"

"The Quarrymen said their gargoyles were dark green, blue, and gray… and the costume scraps were blue and green," Matt muttered, staring at the screen as if he could increase the resolution through willpower alone.

"Hm. Not exactly a perfect match…"

"But there might be more of this strange clan, still laid up after last night's battle and unable to travel," Matt responded. "Tell me, am I correct in assuming that you have hidden cameras and microphones stashed throughout the castle?"

Xanatos touched a few controls, and the view changed to one of the clan's living room. "Strictly for security purposes, of course; paranoia is pretty much prerequisite after the first billion is made."

"Of course," Matt echoed. "Would you mind if we just watched and listened in for a while, before introducing ourselves? If they did have something to do with last night's battle… People tend to be more talkative when they don't know there's a policeman present."

Xanatos nodded and gestured. "Just bring your chair over here…" Then he gave another of his infamous smirks as he asked, "Want me to send Owen for popcorn?"

"Ha. Ha. …What the heck; I haven't eaten yet…"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Heinrich rode the truck over the bridge and well into the city, looking up from time to time but mostly keeping his head down and his wings mantled over his body and bags, hoping that he looked like a big gray tarpaulin spread over some undefined object instead of a gargoyle hitching a lift.

When the truck finally came to a stop and shut off its engine, he managed to scramble off it and glide a short distance away from the warehouse it had stopped at, without any alarm being raised. After checking some street signs and consulting the booklet of maps, he oriented himself and started heading in the direction he needed to go. The police precinct, his first destination, was about six kilometers away; just an easy glide ordinarily, but tonight with his lack of energy, he would have to do it all in short glides and frequent rests. But he was determined to make it that far before sunrise; to make it there, and find out whether or not he and his family had kin here in this city, or were truly the last of their kind.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

The clan's guests had been introduced, brought into the living room, and generally made welcome; by happy coincidence, there was even a platter of freshly made brownies for them. Bronx had greeted the newcomers happily, and the newcomers were even more delighted to see him, making quite a fuss over him. After the initial greetings were over, Rebecca stayed crouched next to Bronx and scratched behind his ears, but Adam took the seat that was offered to him and made himself comfortable. "A very nice home you have here," he commented, looking round at the décor. "Though it must seem rather empty at times, with only seven of you here…"

Goliath nodded somberly. "There are times when it seems empty indeed. When compared to a thousand years ago, when our clan numbered over ninety strong and every perch was filled, with more down in the rookery…"

Adam blinked at them, went silent for a few seconds, then admitted, "I'm confused. We did some research on this castle when it was first mentioned in relation to gargoyles, and we found out it had been brought over from Scotland, back in late 1991. Are you saying that instead of being native to New York, you migrated here along with the castle?"

Brooklyn had finally come out of the daze that meeting Rebecca had put him in, and chuckled sardonically. "Yeah, we came over with the castle! In packing crates, probably, not that we were aware of it at the time."

All of the newcomers exchanged confused looks, before Adam turned to Goliath and said only, "It sounds like quite a story. If you'd care to tell it to us?"

Goliath nodded again. "It is quite a story, indeed." He took a deep breath, and began to tell it.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Vinnie decided that the Velasquez family were pretty nice folks; their kids welcomed Galena like she was a regular playmate, while the adults served everyone else coffee while listening to what Demona, Yama and Hiroshi had to say. Carlos had called them last night, to let them know why the gargoyle family wouldn't be sleeping in their living room during the day, so they already knew about the Quarrymen attack and the offer to come live in Japan instead. But they had a bunch of questions for Yama and Hiroshi, about what the clan in Japan was like, and a bunch more questions for Demona about what it was like to be gargoyle by night but human by day.

Yama and Hiroshi were willing to talk all night about how great their home was, but Demona was pretty closemouthed about her experiences, and finally asked them to stop asking questions: "I know you're just curious, but please… I don't really like feeling like I'm different, like a freak made of magic, and every question just makes it worse." Mr. And Mrs. Velasquez stopped immediately, and just about fell over themselves apologizing for being rude to her, until she said it was all understandable and okay.

Vinnie could kind-of see where she was coming from; last night, he'd sorta noticed that all the gargoyles were staring at her like she'd grown a second head, right after she'd told them her secret. And any other human who knew about Dominique Destine's 'night life' probably stared at her the same way at first, too. Vinnie remembered a handicapped kid he'd gone to school with, a guy who'd been born without a right hand; he'd been okay a lot of the time, but he'd gotten pretty nasty towards kids who stared at him or called him "Lefty." Maybe that was why Demona/Ms. Destine was supposed to be such a hardass bitch, in her job of running the company; probably some of the upper-level execs knew her secret too, and if they treated her like a freak she'd be nasty to 'em in return, and it would just filter down to the working folks. And it got exaggerated as it filtered down, like stories told around the water cooler always did; Vinnie had plenty of experience with that. Back when he'd worked for Xanatos Enterprises as a security guard, he'd heard all sorts of stories whispered around the water cooler about that company's CEO, David Xanatos, and his right-hand man Owen Burnett. Not that even half of them could possibly be true…

After an hour or so of talking, Demona said it was time to go; they still had to swing by Vinnie's house to get Yama's cat and the rest of Hiroshi's things, before going to the airport and sneaking aboard the plane that would take them to Japan. The gargoyles snuck out the window, followed by a chorus of goodbyes and promises to write, while Vinnie, Carlos and Hiroshi went out the front door with their luggage and a few farewell gifts of Mexican food and treats. Vinnie thought to himself that it would be a good thing to keep in touch with this family later on, to swap gargoyle tales and such. Mrs. Velasquez sure made great _empanaditas._

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

After Goliath had finished telling of the massacre over a thousand years ago, and how the Wyvern Clan had ended up in Manhattan, Adam had in turn told how his clan had come to America. It seemed that over two hundred years ago, there had been a clan living in Paris, in the upper levels of Notre Dame (and Goliath successfully suppressed his own memories of that place, and his encounter there with Demona and Thailog.) When the Notre Dame had been built in the twelfth century, the clan of gargoyles that lived by one of the stone quarries nearby had first come into conflict with the people mining stones for the cathedral, then somehow came to be on such amiable terms that the clan was invited to live atop the cathedral and help protect Paris. (Adam was deliberately vague on the details of that sudden change in relations and relocation, and Goliath wondered if Adam truly didn't know how that had come about, or if it was a secret he was unwilling to disclose just yet.) But in 1771 the clan had split, and twenty of its members had secretly emigrated to New Orleans with a family of minor nobles, the Dubois.

The DuBois family had acquired a large tract of land outside the town and built a mansion there, and the gargoyles had settled in quite happily, hunting the bayous for food and occasionally patrolling the town, mostly to act as secret bodyguards for the DuBois family. But they had retained contact with the old clan in Notre Dame, until the summer of 1793. All of France was embroiled in the French Revolution by then; the king and his family had already been executed as traitors to the State, and under Robespierre's Reign of Terror, thousands more people—some of them nobles, some of them bourgeoisie who happened to be a little richer than others, and some of them people who had just dared to speak out against the insanity—were being imprisoned and executed every month. The last letter the New Orleans Clan had received, from the Paris Clan's leader Valjean, said that they had been forced to evacuate most of the clan to an abandoned farmhouse outside the city, but they still had hopes of being able to return to the cathedral and their protectorate once the current madness died down. Then after that… nothing. A short time later, a visiting sea captain had told one of the DuBois family that Notre Dame had been sacked by the forces of the Revolution, and much of the cathedral's fineries—including several ornate statues—had been destroyed.

"We still hope that some of them managed to escape the slaughter, hiding out at that farmhouse, but we've never heard from them since then," Adam concluded with a sorrowful shake of his head. "After that, the gargoyles that had come to New Orleans vowed to maintain even more secrecy, and when the city grew to encompass the old DuBois homestead, they sold it and moved even further out. Our clan now lives about fifty miles from the city, at the edge of a bayou; we still have people patrolling the city, but only a half-dozen at a time, rotating in shifts that last four nights before returning home. The rest of the time, we patrol the bayou and homestead borders, avoiding exposure… except at Mardi Gras." Now Adam grinned, his fangs glistening in the light of the living room. "Have you heard of Mardi Gras?"

The phrase stirred a memory in Goliath's mind, but clearly didn't mean as much to him as it did to the Trio; they all sat up straighter and almost literally perked their ears. "Yeah, we've heard about that," Brooklyn said aloud. "Sounds like one heckuva party!"

"Oh, it is!" Adam grinned even wider. "And we even participate in it; since outrageous costumes are the norm during the festival, we simply dress up a little fancier or ornament ourselves a bit, and everyone thinks we're just humans in particularly good costumes!"

Rebecca threw in from where she was still crouched by Bronx, "I have golden feathered wing-covers that Marcel's sister made for me; I just put them on and paint on a couple of 'seam lines', and everyone calls me Canary Girl!" She smiled modestly while adding, "It helps that I have a good singing voice."

"A lovely singing voice," Adam assured her, before turning to the clan to continue. "It's the one time of the year that we walk right down the streets with everybody else, singing and dancing till nearly dawn for night after night, till the last big party ending at midnight on Mardi Gras itself. We even have our own parade float!"

Goliath and Hudson both stared at him as if he'd said he regularly ate plutonium for dinner. "Parade…float?"

"Yeah, you know, Goliath, a dressed-up wagon or car like they use in the Thanksgiving Day parade!" Brooklyn said with a grin. ( Matt had made a tape of last year's televised parade for Hudson and the Trio to see, since it all happened during the daylight hours.) "Too cool! Like a week-long Halloween!"

Halloween had long since become Goliath's favorite human holiday; it was the one night of the year that he and Elisa could walk down the streets together without anyone screaming. (He still somewhat regretted not going out in public with her on that night over two weeks ago, but with her fertile period coinciding…) But evidently in New Orleans, they had more than just one night to enjoy it all! But mindful that a clan leader shouldn't bounce in his seat like an eager hatchling, all he said was, "It sounds enjoyable indeed."

"It seems to me that your clan is prospering as well as any clan could ever hope to," Hudson said with a smile. "But tell me, do you have any watchbeasts?"

Adam looked over at Bronx before saying with a sigh, "The colonizers that left Paris had sixteen gargoyles and four watchbeasts, both mated pairs. But for some reason, one mated pair produced only males, and out of three breeding seasons the other pair produced only one female… who fought a 'gator and lost before she came of breeding age. Our last watchbeast died of old age over a century ago."

Hudson sighed heavily. "It seems watchbeasts are rare indeed these days. Goliath, how many did you say you saw, in all your travels around the world?"

"Only half a dozen, and all in Ishimura… seven total, counting Boudicca in Avalon," Goliath said with a troubled frown. "We really must go there to retrieve her before the next breeding season."

"Speaking of breeding seasons…" Adam straightened up and took a deep breath before saying, "Pardon the observation, but New York is seeming more and more like a particularly inhospitable place to breed the next generation." He looked over at Broadway and said, "From the way you're carrying that wing, your injury happened very recently, didn't it?"

"Just yesterday," Broadway admitted, looking down at the floor.

"I thought so. Just as Rebecca was shot last night while searching for you, and might well have bled to death before dawn had we not been able to find her, bring her to safety and give her emergency first aid. As I said to Maurice and Marcel this morning," he said as he nodded to them, "In New Orleans, we have crime aplenty for warriors to deal with… but we do NOT have open warfare between species. We expect that our next clutch of eggs and hatchlings will be raised in secrecy and safety… and to be blunt, I don't see how you can possibly expect that here. Not when your home is too well known to your enemies, and there are so few of you left to defend it… I know how hard it is to even think about leaving a protectorate; how it goes against the grain, against your very soul, to leave a place you call **_home_**. But for the next generation's sake, you should seriously consider relocating, to New Orleans." He spread his hands out to encompass the room as he finished, "I invite you to come with us, to combine our clans, and come to New Orleans to live."

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Back at the precinct, Detective Second Class Elisa Maza was _not_ a happy little trooper. The phone was practically ringing off the hook with demands from both government officials and private citizens for the Gargoyles Task Force to _do something_ about last night's 'incident'—'incident' being as much of an understatement as calling World War Two a 'conflict'.

The Quarrymen were screaming for blood, as loudly and often as they could; they'd already held one spontaneous rally that afternoon in Central Park, which thankfully had been dispersed by the police before sunset had come and the gargoyles had awoken to notice the disturbance. And right that moment, Jon Castaway was being interviewed on Night Watch about the deaths of eleven of his people.

But guess who else was going to be on that program? The Night Watch program director had contacted "Lennox MacDuff" to speak for the opposing side, since his 'debate' with Margot Yale had garnered such high ratings for the show a month ago. He'd agreed to step into the breach again, to defend the gargoyles, and his call to the precinct an hour earlier had been the only one Elisa had welcomed. She'd armed him with what data she could, without making it too obvious that someone in the department was leaking information. Right now Elisa was to busy fielding calls and looking through her ever-increasing pile of paperwork to watch the show, but she was confident that Macbeth would bring up whatever key questions the show's host Travis Marshall conveniently 'forgot' to mention, such as why scraps of gargoyle costume had been found at the scene… and by the way, what were those illegal machine guns doing mounted on that helicopter in the first place? By whose authority had they been fired within city limits?

But even with Macbeth and the P.I.T. doing what they could to divert the threat, this city was a powder keg with a sparking fuse. Eleven men were dead, and the city wanted someone to answer for that, one way or another.

"Dammit, Matt, where _are_ you!" Elisa growled under her breath as she put the phone's receiver down again, just barely restraining herself from slamming it. The last call had been yet another insane 'canary', claiming that she'd seen last night's battle with her own eyes; seen a hundred pitchfork-waving gargoyles erupting from a fiery hole in the ground to wreak havoc on those innocent Quarrymen. Elisa redirected the call to one of the task force's two rookies—let them deal with the obvious cranks; Elisa had paid her dues back in her own rookie days—and told herself to take a deep, cleansing breath before trying again to get hold of her partner. Matt was supposed to have been in twenty-five minutes ago, and Captain Chavez had already come by demanding to see him _twice_ in that twenty-five minutes. Elisa took a deep breath, held it, counted to ten—and on the count of six, the phone rang again. "_#$#$&_!" She picked up and gripped the receiver in a stranglehold, but managed to keep _most_ of the snarl out of her voice as she rattled off, "NYPDGargoylesTaskForceDetectiveMazaspeakinghowcanI_help_you!"

"Elisa, it's me," she heard Matt say on the other end.

"Matt, where have you _been_! Never mind, just get your ass in here! Chavez is about to--" Elisa started, then realized that Matt was still talking, trying to override her own tirade.

"…and get over to the castle _now_," Matt said. "Straight to Xanatos' office, and _don't_ stop to talk to the clan on the way, okay?" And with that, he hung up.

Elisa swore again, slammed the phone down, and grabbed her jacket. "Following a possible lead; you stay and handle the phones!" she shouted at the rookies, while running for the back door—not coincidentally, in the opposite direction from which Captain Chavez was approaching yet again.

Less than sixty seconds later, Elisa was in her Fairlane and roaring into traffic. Her mind was boiling over with diatribes against Matt, the Quarrymen and all the 'canary' lunatics that came out of the woodwork at times like this, and besides, it had been months since the clan had moved out of the old clocktower above the precinct. That being the case, she didn't look up and scan the sky for forms gliding towards or away from the clocktower, as she used to do all the time. So she completely missed seeing the gargoyle approaching from the east…

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Heinrich absently noticed a large red-and-white car bulling its way through traffic below him as he glided down the street, but his attention was far more focused on his destination, now in sight: the 23rd Precinct of the NYPD. Even if Karl and Andrea hadn't pinpointed and circled its location on the map that Heinrich was holding, he would have recognized the silhouette of the building from the photos in that tabloid article two months ago.

He alit silently on a roof across from the clocktower and just stared at it for a moment, his heart constricting at the sight of the ruined structure. If restoration had indeed been begun already, it evidently had not progressed far; he could see masses of twisted steel and torn wooden beams still scattered and heaped amid concrete rubble. Such senseless destruction… It strongly reminded him of the ruins of Dresden, after the bombing in February 1945.

Even nearly fifty-two years after the Allied bombing that had leveled the city, Heinrich still had occasional day-mares about it. He couldn't recall a single thing about those beings who must have raised him from an egg; not so much as an image of an adult gargoyle's face or whisper of a name. All his memories began in utter darkness, and terror, and incredibly loud explosions that shook through the rubble he and his siblings had been coffined in, again and again, no matter how much they screamed for mercy, and that whatever it was they had done, they were really _really_ sorry for it and please make it _stop_… And finally, it had stopped. But they were still in darkness, alone except for each other and the smoke that gradually permeated everything and made it hard to breathe; too young to dig themselves out, they huddled in utter darkness without food or water or hope… Until the faint sounds of digging and rubble shifting grew louder, and closer, and then that first shaft of blessed moonlight peeped in just over the astonished face of Anna Schoenburg, the woman they learned to call _Mutti_ (Mommy).

Mutti and her sole remaining son Gregor Schoenburg had taken them from the rubble of their home--at least, they all assumed it had been their home, since they had been found there--and carried them to an improvised shelter, cleaned them up and given them a few scraps of what food she and Gregor had found so far. That was Heinrich's first comforting memory; Mutti's kindly human face smiling at him as she gave him a scavenged Bratwurst sausage. (Even fifty years later, he still got a little sentimental about Bratwurst.) Two nights later and for many nights thereafter, while parts of Dresden still smoldered and burned, the three gargoyle children had been out and picking through the rubble with Mutti and Gregor, searching desperately for drinkable water and anything edible to keep them alive until the Red Cross relief trucks came with food for the survivors. Gregor and Anna had grown to be quite thankful for their foundlings, for the gargoyles' keen noses could sniff out food for them all even when covered by rubble… so long as they weren't too fastidious, that is. But for weeks after the bombing, even a dead rat was considered edible. Virtually the only thing they found regularly which they simply could not bring themselves to eat were the human corpses; the victims of the bombings and resulting firestorm that had swept through the city. The ones they found, they dragged out into the open and left them with faces covered, to be found by the soldiers, civilians and POW's working during the day and taken to the mass funeral pyres being set up in the parks. So many dead, thousands of innocents, whose only crime had been living in a country ruled by Adolf Hitler and his Nazis…

Heinrich shook his head and growled at himself, shoving all his memories aside. He wasn't here to relive the past, but to find hope for the future! To find evidence of more of his kind… He took a deep breath, spread his wings and leaped, gliding across the gap and landing on the lip of a large hole blown in one wall, undoubtedly from the bombing. After pausing a moment to get his bearings, he dropped down from his perch to the floor inside the clocktower. His first impression was of the rubble, ruin and dust everywhere. And for an instant he could almost smell once more the stench of cooked human flesh; then he snorted hard to clear his nose of hated memories, and began exploring.

In one corner, he found an old overstuffed chair, lying overturned and covered with rubble and dust. He cleared the rubble off and righted it, and sniffed the cushions. That scent… this chair hadn't been used for months, and the dust over everything got in his nostrils, but he thought he could detect a scent a little like his own and his brother Helmut's. Ach, if only his nose really were as keen as a bloodhound's! Then he'd know for sure if he was scenting another gargoyle, or just his own wishful thinking.

He left the chair behind and explored further. No distinctive three-toed tracks in the dust… but this was odd; this one path showed clear signs of having been swept. Someone was erasing their tracks, perhaps? His heart hammering again, he followed the path out to a balcony, beneath what was left of the face of the giant clock.

More rubble out on the balcony… but the balustrade showed a little damage that couldn't have come from the explosion. Claw marks! The dents and scratches of multiple talons, talons just like he had on his feet! He knelt and stuck his nose to the marks and sniffed. YES! Scents of others like him, and only a few nights old! And right under his knee, that thin shard of stone… That was a remnant of stone skin, shed from a wing just like his, or he was a _fledermaus_! He picked up the shard and cradled it lovingly, tracing the faint impression of veins with a talon-tip while tears ran unheeded down his cheeks. "_Gott sei Dank, Gott sei Dank… Mehr unserer Art. Schließlich mehr von uns_."

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

For long moments, the entire Great Hall was silent. After Adam had spoken, all eyes had turned to Goliath, to await his response. Goliath sat very still, considering his options… and, once he had made his decision, just how he would phrase his reply.

Finally, he spoke. "That is a most generous offer... backed by both wisdom and compassion. And it is true, we have made enemies who have organized themselves into a deadly threat… but we have also made friends in this city, and staunch allies who have sworn to aid us as we have aided them." He thought first of his beloved Elisa, then of Matt Bluestone, and of the castle's human residents and the Labyrinth Clan. But he chose to say, "The People for Interspecies Tolerance may well become a counterweight to the Quarrymen; where the Quarrymen preach fear and hatred, the PIT speaks of hope and friendship, and every week their collective voice becomes stronger. The leaders of the group have already taken blows on our behalf, but have sworn to stand by us in our battle for acceptance by the rest of humanity. A battle that we _must_ fight, openly and with all our hearts… for few secrets can be kept forever. Humanity must learn to accept the fact that it shares the night and skies with another sentient species. It was not our choice for this clan to become a 'test case' for all gargoyles, but now that we are in the spotlight, we cannot flee back into the shadows… not until the battle for acceptance is won. Otherwise, the next clan that is discovered and unwillingly cast into the spotlight may indeed find itself destroyed, by human fear and ignorance." After a brief cause, he finished, "So, while I thank you for the offer of a new home in secrecy, it must regretfully be declined."

Adam seemed about to say something else, but instead "Well said, Goliath!" Xanatos chimed in from the entrance to the Great Hall.

The voice had been unexpected, and everyone jumped a little before turning in that direction. Xanatos stood posed in the entranceway with his wife Fox for just a moment longer, likely relishing the moment of surprise, before striding confidently in to shake hands and grasp forearms with the New Orleans members. "I'm David Xanatos, the current owner of this castle, and this is my wife Fox. Our apologies for not being here to meet you earlier; we had other business to conduct. And you are…?"

After introductions were made all around, Xanatos turned to Goliath and said, "Glad to hear you're not planning to pull up stakes; I must admit, I've gotten pretty used to having you around. But let me ask you something: do gargoyles ever take vacations?"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

"And here we are; Casa Gregarino," Vinnie said as he pulled the van over to the curb next to his folks' house. "Listen, Hiroshi and I will just run in and grab the bags and the cat, and then we'll be right back out and on our way to the airport, okay?"

That was the plan, that Vinnie and Hiroshi had quietly agreed upon when they'd had a spare moment alone earlier in the day. Since Vinnie's family still wasn't cool with gargoyles, and the suburban neighborhood here wasn't quite as used to looking the other way and not getting involved as they were in that Brooklyn neighborhood, it'd be for the best if the gargoyles just stayed put in the van, out of sight, while Vinnie and one other guy went in to get the goods. Vinnie would carry the luggage, Hiroshi would carry that dumb cat, and they'd get out of the house before Vinnie's mom could think of something to talk about that would delay their trip to the airport.

But as he found out when he and Hiroshi went inside, the Gregarino luck was running true to form. Vinnie's mom met them at the door with a woeful expression, informing them that she'd locked the cat in the garage last night after it had ruined her best pair of dress shoes in the closet… And when his dad had gone to work in the morning, the cat had escaped when the garage door was opened to back the car out. She'd been looking for the cat all day, asking the neighbors if they'd seen it and leaving opened cans of tuna out on the porch, but so far it hadn't appeared.

"Just how attached to that dumb cat is Yama, anyway?" Vinnie asked Hiroshi with a worried glance.

" 'That dumb cat' is _Manekineko_," Hiroshi said with grim finality. "Yama considers her _clan_, as much as any human or gargoyle of Ishimura… perhaps even _more_ 'clan' than many who live there. He will not leave until she is found, one way or another."

And before anything else could be said, the doorbell rang. Papa Gregarino went to open it, and beyond his shoulder Vinnie saw Carlos on the doorstep, standing next to a short figure draped in an overlarge poncho and topped by a sombrero. Carlos said to Vinnie's dad in an apologetic tone, "Excuse, but Galena, she need… use bathroom."

Then the sombrero tipped up, and the little girl gargoyle looked his dad right in the face as she said pleadingly, "_el baño_!"

And of course Vinnie's dad—the guy who used to brag about how cool he'd been under fire in Vietnam—shouted and jumped a foot in the air in surprise, and damn near slammed the door shut in their faces. Vinnie hustled over to intervene before things got ugly, thinking that if Ms. Destine (or Demona, or whatever she wanted to be called now) found out how his family was about gargoyles, he might end up losing yet _another_ job… Jeez, why didn't he ever get a break! Did somebody up there have it in for him, or what?

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Back at the castle, Goliath was feeling a bit dizzy. What had just happened?

Gargoyles did _not_ take vacations. The idea of leaving one's sworn home and traveling elsewhere for a while, purely for recreational purposes… It just wasn't done! Maybe humans did that all the time, with their near-constant dissatisfaction with their lives and their need to roam and explore… but that was what humans did. It was true that, back in medieval Scotland, unmated males and females of the old clan had traveled inland to their sister clan once every eight years… but that was in order to find mates, if no suitable ones had been found in their own clan!

Ordinarily, gargoyles only left their protectorate to either come to the aid of someone in trouble, to expand the borders of their own protectorate, or to establish a new clan and new protectorate somewhere else entirely. While his clan was now well established in Manhattan, they were certainly not large enough to need to split off and form another clan in farther territory, nor expand their borders beyond the island of Manhattan. And the New Orleans clan was by their own account doing quite well; there was no need for Goliath to go charging off to the rescue, as he and Elisa had gone off to Avalon.

So how, precisely, had David Xanatos just talked the entire clan into going on a vacation? …And make it sound so reasonable, too?

If Xanatos was able to turn that smooth talking on other humans, to charm them into doing something they wouldn't normally do, no wonder the man had a multibillion-dollar empire.

The idea did have its merits. It was true that Broadway's wing would take time to heal fully and regain its strength, if it ever did, and wide acreage over which to practice without fear of Quarrymen hunters would be best for that purpose. And Angela, while having been a hatchling herself once, had never been in an opportunity to mind one; some experience with gargoyle children would be good before she laid her egg after the next breeding season, so the eventual hatchling would have more than just Lexington to mind him or her. Also, Fox wanted to go along, to ask questions of the New Orleans clan's human members about gargoyle-human cohabitation. The Xanatos family was still new to the idea of cohabiting, and there were undoubtedly important things they needed to know before the upcoming breeding season; things that the gargoyles themselves simply might not think to tell them, since it was so obvious from their own point of view. And if Fox really had received death-threats from some crazed Pack fans who had taken her "fall from grace" personally, then of course she should have a gargoyle escort to see that she arrived and returned unharmed.

And Xanatos was _still_ talking… "And of course, while you're gone, it'll be a perfect opportunity to 'muddy the waters' and confuse the Quarrymen so we don't have a repeat of what happened last night. Two or three nights from now, I'll have an interview up here during the day… and let a cameraman slip out to where he'd expect to find you, except of course you won't be here. And at night, I'll have a hologram projector mounted onto a mobile platform in a truck, and have it project images of you here and there about the city. Once they hear the news, the Quarrymen will believe that you've decided to find a new home elsewhere in Manhattan, and be much more apt to leave your _real _home in peace in the future. That'll be good for all of us, don't you think? I'm glad you think so, Goliath. Oh, and don't worry about Detective Maza; I'll arrange for her to accompany you, too. The lady really could use a proper vacation, since the last one was cut short. And since she enjoys spicy cooking so much, I'm sure she'd love New Orleans Cajun cuisine! Am I right about the cuisine, Broadway?"

"Huh?" Broadway shook himself out of an apparent daze. "The food? Oh, yeah, she'll love it! And I've been wanting to learn some of those Cajun recipes myself…"

"See? Another good reason to go! In fact, this is the perfect opportunity for the whole clan to relax and recuperate while strengthening inter-clan relations, before returning to fight the good fight. And in order to help you out, I have Owen currently checking on the availability of Xanatos Enterprise's cargo jet fleet. We usually have one or two of them going in that general direction every day; it'd be easy enough to divert one to New Orleans for a refueling or some other reason. With a little care in sneaking on and off, we could have all of you in New Orleans before sunrise!"

"Whah—oh, hey, mon, what about my rig?" Marcel protested. "We done rigged that trailer up to hold a dozen gargoyles 'n' more, an' I ain't about to jus' leave it up here!"

"An easy detail to fix," Xanatos waved his objections away. "I can have one of my own drivers take your truck back down to New Orleans, to arrive just a couple days after you do. Wouldn't you rather return home sooner rather than later? I understand they're forecasting _freezing rain_ for tomorrow…"

Marcel shuddered, and said words to the effect that he much preferred a warmer climate. (At least, Goliath assumed that was what he said, amidst the Cajun words that sounded suspiciously like they might be profanity.)

"So it's settled, then! We'll find a plane for you tonight… Unless, of course, you have any objections?" as Xanatos looked over at Adam.

"Ah—oh, no objections at all!" Adam said with a smile.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

But in Xanatos' office, Elisa had objections aplenty. "Dammit, Matt, I am NOT running away from this! If we don't find some answers for what happened during last night's battle, and defuse the threat pretty damn fast, the city's going to _explode_ in a war against the clan!"

"And we'll **_find_** the answers! But we'll have to do it _without_ the clan's help this time," Matt said just as forcefully. "You said it yourself, this place is a powder keg, and any day now, ordinary citizens will start arming themselves and taking potshots at the gargoyles while they patrol! Hell, we're lucky they weren't been shot at already tonight, before they came back here with these other gargoyles in tow! Until we can either produce the people who really were in that battle, or find a way to completely discredit the Quarrymen, the safest way to ensure nobody gets shot is to get all known gargoyles out of sight, _right now_! I'll go talk to your brother and get him to keep the clones down in the Labyrinth for a week or two. But we need _you_ to get the clan up here out of the city and down to New Orleans, _before_ they find out about what happened last night! You know Goliath won't leave town without you, and the clan won't leave without him leading the way! After we come up with something to defuse the current threat, then they can come right back and start patrolling and protecting again. But you know as well as I do, there's a time to stand up and fight for what's right, and there's a time to lie low for a while and let someone else do the fighting."

For a few long moments, Elisa was silent. Then she said slowly, "You're asking me to say _nothin_g about the battle last night, until long after we leave town… to keep a secret from my husband."

"Would you prefer that we ask you to go behind his back instead?" Owen asked coolly. "I might remind you, Detective, of the incident two years ago when you had the clan move out of this castle… directly against Goliath's wishes."

Matt thought absently that if she were a true gargoyle, Elisa would definitely have been flashing her fangs at Owen as she snarled, "**_I had to do that_**! They weren't **_safe_** here then!"

"And they're not safe here **_now_**," Matt said with grim finality. "The last couple of days should have proved that already… You heard Xanatos over the speaker; once the gargoyles are out of town, we can see about at least confusing the Quarrymen as to where their home really is. Another good reason to get them down to New Orleans…"

Elisa finally, grudgingly agreed to the idea of going to New Orleans with the clan… before raising another objection. "How do I do that without flat-out getting _fired_ from the force? You know what a helluva time I had getting reinstated to full duty after I got back from the World Tour."

Matt did indeed know how hard a time she'd had. The NYPD tended to frown upon officers who went AWOL with no warning, particularly when the absence stretched to nearly eight months. In order to explain herself without mentioning the gargoyles, Elisa had been forced to come up with a truly wild story about being kidnapped by international gangsters, and taken to Paris as a "present" for an international crime lord with a taste in feisty exotic beauties (a crime lord who just happened to vaguely resemble David Xanatos). She told the board she'd finally escaped, after a pitched battle (citing Macbeth's mysteriously wrecked mansion as evidence). In Paris with no money and no passport, she'd hopped a freighter to escape that she'd thought would bring her home to America, but had ended up stranded in Nigeria, and… She gave plenty of convincing details about each event and country involved, but as she'd told Matt later, she didn't know who was more amazed in the end; the board of inquiry she spun her story in front of, or her when they seemed to buy it. In the end, she'd gotten out of it in one piece, her only penalty being the loss of all her accumulated vacation time for not calling the NYPD as soon as she'd had a chance after 'escaping'. That was why she'd only been able to scrape four recently accumulated days of vacation time together for her private bachelorette party, wedding and honeymoon, instead of the standard two weeks.

Xanatos and Fox came into the room just as Elisa finished speaking, and Xanatos stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Yes, that might be a problem, since the board of inquiry took all your vacation time as part of their reprimand." He noticed the look on Elisa's face and couldn't help grinning. "Of course I know about that; who do you think pressured the board to accept that cock-and-bull story you spun? And don't think I didn't notice the resemblance of 'Alexander Thailog' to yours truly, though I suppose you thought it was earned at the time." Elisa just stood there with her jaw dangling for a moment while Xanatos thought some more. "How about a nice case of something terribly infectious, with a mandatory quarantine of at least a week?"

Fox gave a wicked grin. "That's a wonderful idea, darling! And I have just the disease in mind…"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Back at Casa Gregarino, things had settled down a little, thanks to Demona's handy roll of bills. After Vinnie had come back out to the van and explained what had happened, Demona had given him four hundred bucks to give to his folks, with instructions for them to go out and find another really nice pair of shoes, to replace the ones that had been ruined, _right now_. And to follow the shoe-shopping up with a nice dinner and a movie, while they were out; that should keep them out of the house until midnight, and by that time the gargoyles would be long gone. She told Yama that they had until eleven o'clock to search the area for his precious companion; if Manekineko couldn't be found by then, she'd make some other arrangements via Vinnie to have the cat shipped to Ishimura whenever it did turn up.

So now the folks were out of the house, Cuarzo and Galena were in the living room with Carlos and Hiroshi getting more Japanese lessons, and Yama, Demona and Malaquita were all out silently scouring the neighborhood, looking for a calico cat with a stub tail. The folks hadn't left happily, and none of the travelers were particularly happy at the delay, but Vinnie reflected that things could definitely be worse; at least he hadn't been fired.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

"Oh, stop muttering," Fox said crossly to Elisa as they rode down in the elevator together. "You're basically getting an extension on your honeymoon! While I have to leave my husband _and_ my son behind for at least a week, just to have one more excuse for the gargoyles to be out of town! And such a lousy excuse, too; the day I run from death threats, _especially_ threats from some idiot disgruntled fanboy, I'm having my tattoo redone into a sheep's head! I should have told David I'd come up with my own reasons for needing an escort…"

Elisa contritely let Fox rant on for a few seconds longer; she was right, in that she was getting a worse deal than Elisa was. Then the detective pointed out, "Actually, he made a really good point, about you and your husband needing to learn the finer points of co-habiting with gargoyles. I'm still getting surprised by Goliath on almost a monthly basis. For instance, what would you think if a gargoyle rubs his knuckles on your forehead? He's not trying to give you a noogie and aiming too low; it's actually a gesture of affection, their equivalent to a kiss on the cheek."

Fox turned to face her with the beginning of a wicked grin. "Oh, really? And what's their equivalent of a really hot kiss with tongue action?"

Elisa blushed bright red. Fortunately, the elevator doors opened a moment later, saving her from having to make a reply.

Fox ushered her into the Xanatos family's master bedroom and directed her over to a vanity table, while pulling a hefty case off a shelf in the nearby walk-in closet. "I have to admit, this is going to be fun," Fox said as she opened the case to reveal a variety of pencils, tubes and applicators. "Back in my merc days, I used to disguise myself all the time, but I haven't had a good excuse to play with this stuff in over two years."

"Just keep in mind that this is _my_ face you're playing with," Elisa said sourly as she eyed some of the wares Fox was setting out, next to the colored printouts that they had brought with them from Xanatos' office.

"Oh, relax; I guarantee it'll all come off with the right remover. But we can't have it coming off too easily, can we? Now take your shirt off; this always starts below the collar… Why, Elisa! Is that a _hickey_! My, my…"

"Can we just get this over with, _please_?"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

While Fox and Elisa were busy, Matt was speeding downtown, towards the 23rd Precinct. Once he got there, he contritely let Captain Chavez verbally skin and gut him for reporting to work nearly two hours late, especially when they had such a hot case on their hands. Then he asked somebody to go get the file on that Xanatos Enterprises warehouse robbery two weeks ago, saying he thought he remembered hearing something about some jetpacks being stolen…

While one of his GTF rookies ran off to get the file, he sat down and began going through all the other files that had appeared on his and Elisa's desks since he'd left that morning, hoping for some minor clue that would point him in the right direction for finding the gargoyles—or gargoyle imposters—that had been in last night's battle.

Half an hour later, another rookie came knocking on Captain Chavez' office door. Matt heard him say respectfully, "Captain? Detective Maza is outside the precinct, sitting in her car. She doesn't want anyone getting too close to the car, and she wants to talk to you…"

Captain Chavez came out of her office with a roar, and Matt decided to tail her at a discreet distance. The good captain burst out the front doors of the precinct and strode down to the red Fairlane parked at the curb with an angry, "Maza, what the hell is going on?"

"Don't get too close, Captain!" Elisa called out from where she was sitting in the driver's seat, hunched miserably over the steering wheel. "I'm contagious!"

Chavez came to a dead halt while still over six feet away. Considering the recent rise in cases of highly infectious diseases in the New York prison system, such as the tuberculosis epidemic that they were still fighting to get under control, "contagious" was not a word to ignore. She demanded, "What've you got?"

"chknpox," Elisa mumbled.

"What? Speak up!"

"_Chicken Pox_, _dammit_! I've got chicken pox!" Elisa twisted in her seat and tugged down the collar of her turtleneck sweater, so everyone present could see the rash spreading up her neck, onto the lower edge of her right jaw.

Matt leaned in for a good look, and had to admit that it sure looked like the rash that signaled an outbreak of chicken pox; Fox had done a very good makeup job. The street lighting outside enhanced the effect, making the rash appear darker than it probably was, as if it would turn into those ill-famed itchy pustules at any minute.

Elisa continued, "The rash started on my back this morning, but I didn't know what it was and just tried to ignore it until it spread and started appearing on my face a little while ago. When I left here earlier I went to an emergency room, and the nurse took one look at me and practically threw me into quarantine on the spot. She said I've been contagious since _yesterday_, so everybody I've touched or breathed on in the last 24 hours had better be checked. And after this, I have to go straight home and hang a Quarantine sign on the door, and stay put until the last pox disappears. It could take over a week…"

"Chicken pox." Chavez shook her head in mingled wonder and disgust. "That's a _children's_ disease!"

"I _know_ that!" Elisa wailed. "But I didn't catch it when I was a kid, and the nurse said it hits a lot harder when an adult gets it!"

"I hate to say it, but I've heard of adults getting _really_ sick and damn near dying, after catching chicken pox from their kids," Matt said while wearing his best 'worried but trying not to show it too much' face. "That doesn't happen too often, but… Elisa, did you touch anybody or cough near anybody today? Think hard."

"I accidentally brushed up against Johansson, when he brought me another file from Forensics," Elisa said, looking worried. "And Morgan brought me a cup of coffee…"

"Morgan should be okay; his kid had chicken pox last year, so if he didn't catch it then, he was already immune," Chavez mused. "But I'll let him know anyway, and Johanssen. Maza, are you going to have anyone looking in on you while you're quarantined?"

"I'll do that, Captain," Bluestone interjected hastily, before the good captain got any ideas about being 'mother hen' for her one of her best detectives. "I had the disease when I was ten, so I'm already immune. Elisa, I'll look in on your twice a day, morning and evening, okay? It'll give us a chance to bounce ideas off each other about this Quarrymen incident. Did you read all the files before you went to the emergency room?"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

After leaving the precinct, Elisa went miserably on her way to her parents' house. She hated having to lie, and was disturbed to find out how good she was getting at it At least she wouldn't have to lie to her parents, when she let them know where she was going and asked them to mind Cagney for her while she was away.

Away from New York. Leaving again, when sometimes it felt like she'd just gotten back from that crazy World Tour! And no matter what Matt and Xanatos said, it sure felt like this time she was _running away_ from trouble.

She despised herself for being, in truth, a little relieved at having an excuse to leave the city and the current mess far behind.

She squared her shoulders and told herself to practice putting a nice big smile on her face, and looking at the bright side to the whole situation. Goliath knew her moods—sometimes she wondered if he was able to _smell _her moods—and if she wasn't absolutely delighted to be going away with him to New Orleans, he'd want to know why. So concentrate on the positive, dammit! Think about that New Orleans cooking… think about warm nights under the stars with her husband… nights that should be warm enough for mating flights!

_Oooohhh_, there was a thought… but that assumed that she and Goliath could find a way to be alone together for the three nights of her fertile period. From what she'd been told, after walking into Xanatos' office to find Matt listening in on a meeting between clans in the Great Hall, the New Orleans clan counted both humans and gargoyles among its members, which was pretty tolerant of them. But would they be tolerant enough to accept a gargoyle-human mated couple? Halcyon Renard was a vivid example of persons whose tolerance of different intelligent species definitely had limits.

Well, if worst came to worst and their tolerance went only so far, like folks who said they were okay with gays but couldn't handle the idea of gay marriage, she could just say she'd always wanted to go camping in the bayous, and Goliath would declare his intentions to go along to protect her from alligators or something. Elisa made a mental note to grab her sleeping bag and other outdoor gear from their spot in her hall closet (gear she'd either brought back with her, after acquiring it during the World Tour, or bought soon after returning to New York—if anything like that happened again, next time she was going to be prepared!), and once she was in New Orleans, to stock up on extra-strength mosquito repellent. Now think about that wonderfully spicy Cajun cooking…

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

"Here, kitty, kitty… " Demona called in a low voice as she glided over an alley full of trashcans; she'd heard some movement down there just before coming into view, but there was nothing moving now. After searching for over an hour and finding a few stray dogs and several cats, but no calico cat with a stub tail, she was more than a little impatient to end the search and simply leave… but she persevered, for at least a while longer. As her old hunting teacher had often said when she'd been a hatchling, a hunter without patience and perseverance was often a hunter without food for his dinner, and Demona rather prided herself on being a good hunter. She alit on the edge of a roof overlooking the alley, and after a moment quietly called again. When that got no response, after a quick look around to ensure that Yama wasn't within hearing range, she whispered, "_Arawareru, Manekineko…"_

A shadow moved, and a calico cat's head poked out from behind a trash can to stare up at her. "((Come on out, Beckoning Cat,))" Demona repeated encouragingly. "((Yama is very worried about you…))" She'd never really understood the human desire for pets, and understood it even less when a gargoyle had one. But if Yama was so attached to this beast that he was willing to stay behind to search for it, then she'd try to be accommodating.

She went down to fetch it, but as she landed next to it the cat shied away from her, dodging back into the shadows. But Demona had spent centuries hunting and capturing prey in all sorts of environments, and wasn't about to let a mere cat get away from her in close quarters. After a bit of clashing, banging and snarling, she leaped up to the roof's edge once more, clutching the cat by the scruff of its neck. "The second we get to the van, you're going straight into that cat-carrier I bought for you," she told it crossly as she held it away from her, in order to dodge another swipe of its claws. The cat hissed and spat at her in reply, but otherwise could do nothing as she spiraled up into the sky.

That had been the agreed-upon signal; the first gargoyle to find the cat would glide high enough to see and be seen by the others, before returning to their temporary base of operations. Once she judged she was high enough, Demona circled until she found first Malaquita's silhouette, then Yama's gliding over the houses below. And after both gargoyles had looked up, waved in acknowledgment and turned around, Demona set a course for the Gregarino house. "Stop struggling, cat, or I'll drop you! And I might let you fall quite a ways before I catch you again…"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Back at the castle, things were moving along so fast, Hudson's head was almost spinning as he tried to keep up. Vacationing with another clan; what a concept! And they were to be leaving tonight; in only a few hours! Riding in a jet plane, no less; one that was scheduled to leave a nearby airport just after midnight.

Goliath was on the telephone, talking to Elisa; she had called just moments ago, not long after the New Orleans clan members had gone to pick up their belongings. Evidently, Xanatos had called her at her workplace with the news, and arranged some way for her to go with them to New Orleans. That was good to hear; Hudson didn't want to think about how Goliath would react to be separated from his mate for several nights, so soon after their mating ceremony. From what Goliath was saying, Elisa was evidently already at her parents' house, arranging for them to take care of her wee cat Cagney; she would meet the clan at the airport at midnight.

"…I look forward to it," Goliath said into the telephone with a grin. "…oh, I'm sure of it! But what? …Will they what?" He chuckled. "My lovely Elisa, I can virtually guarantee it! There's something I haven't told you about the New Orleans clan leader yet… No, it can wait until you actually meet him. Until midnight, my love…"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

A few floors down from the Great Hall, Fox was cradling her infant son in her arms, cooing over him and promising that she would call home twice a day, just to hear his sweet babble. The family's nanny, Anne Marsden, promised that she would keep the video camera handy, and if Alexander did any 'firsts' or something unbearably cute, she would videotape it for Fox to see when she returned home.

"Thank you, Anne," Fox said as she reluctantly lay her sleepy son back in his crib. "Right now, though, I need ideas. What are some games for a group of people that are easy to pack for a trip, easy to learn and teach others how to play, and might possibly interest a gargoyle?"

Ten minutes later, Anne was in a car with Owen, armed with Fox's credit card and speeding down to FAO Schwartz.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Up in Bronx, another telephone conversation was taking place. "…And a watchbeast!" Adam was saying into the phone with a smile on his face. "…I was told we'll be arriving at our own airport at about four a.m. Once we make it downtown, we'll stay at the safe house on Rampart Street for the day, and come out to the house at sunset. What? …Stephen, that's an even better idea! With only seven extra gargoyles and two more humans, the delivery truck should be able to hold at least half of us. Have the LeBeau family go out and rent another one the same size, if not larger, and keep it at their place tonight. Then go ahead and drive ours in… no, not to the airport; too many lights everywhere, particularly in the parking garages. Leave it at the Rampart safe house too, and Marcel and I will drive both it and the rental truck home. Even if we don't make it all the way home before dawn, they'll awaken right on our doorstep… That reminds me. Who's on patrol in town tonight? …Since we don't know just how tolerant this clan is, have Robert take Michelle's place on patrol. Yes, right now; she should be home before the first meeting anyway…" He sighed. "I know, it's unfair. But this will be the first mingling of our clans, and believe me, there have been enough awkward moments already. I prefer to err on the side of caution…"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

After returning to the Gregarino home with the cat, handing it over to Yama, herding the Mexican gargoyle family out to the van, losing the cat _again_ when it struggled out of Yama's arms while he was trying to put it in the cat carrier, chasing the cursed beast all through the house, pulling it out from under a bed and stuffing it into the carrier, letting Galena back inside and helping the child find her missing doll Carlotta, and then making sure everyone was finished using the bathroom… Finally, **_finally_** Demona had all her strays and their belongings in the van, and on their way to LaGuardia Airport. She was rather proud of the fact that she'd managed to restrain her temper so well during all the delays. She hadn't snarled or hissed at anyone even once… and surely the thousand dollars she'd left sitting on the counter would replace the overstuffed easy chair that she'd inadvertently destroyed. As the van turned onto the 59th Street Bridge and headed for Queens, Demona realized that they were running slightly late for their scheduled flight, but she had no worries that the plane would leave without them; not when she owned the plane and the pilots.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Almost before Hudson realized it, the entire clan and everyone from New Orleans were all together down in the Aerie Building's parking garage, getting into a trio of matching delivery vans and heading for JFK Airport. Hudson chose to get into the van that Fox was driving, along with Broadway and Bronx. Even if the van was a far roomier ride than the cab ride he'd taken two nights ago, he wasn't entirely comfortable inside a moving vehicle. He wished they could have glided out to the airport under their own power, but the entire clan had silently agreed not to balk at Xanatos' suggestion that they use the vans. Broadway was simply in no shape to glide that far, and the fewer reminders of his current handicapped ability, the better.

"We're turning onto the 59th Street Bridge; crossing the river and heading into Queens," Fox said over her shoulder, giving a running commentary on their trip. "In less than half an hour, we'll be at JFK."

Bronx kept turning around and around, muttering and occasionally whining, clearly no happier than Hudson was to be riding in the van. "Easy, lad; we'll be there soon enough," Hudso nsaid soothingly. Though he privately wondered if Bronx would take to riding in a jet plane any better than he was taking to riding in a van. For that matter, the idea of letting someone else do the flying for him didn't fill Hudson with delight… but he was determined to take it all with a smile, or at least without a frown. Better to think about what lay in wait for them, down in New Orleans: a new clan they could see with their own eyes, instead of merely hear about through others' stories! He'd ride in a—a _submarine_, for more evidence that his clan was not alone in the world.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

"#Aw, don't cry, kitty,#" Galena said soothingly. "#You're going home now; _Senora_ Demona said it will only be another night or two before we are in Ishimura. You want to be home again, don't you? And perhaps if we ask very nicely, _Senora_ Demona will let us open the cage door once we are all on the plane together, so I can play with you…#" But no matter what she said, the poor cat in the wire-and-plastic crate just wailed and yowled. Carlos finally told her gently to leave it alone, and threw their thickest poncho over the cage, covering it completely; the way they used to quiet the parrots and other pet birds back in the village. Galena didn't think it would work on the cat; the birds in cages were mostly awake in the daytime and sleeping at night, while the cats she'd known back in the village liked to be up and about at night too. But she didn't say anything; after all, she'd never seen a cat in a cage before. _Senor_ Yama looked like he wasn't happy about what Carlos had done, but _Senor_ Hiroshi said something to him, and the Japanese gargoyle sat back down again. And while the cat didn't entirely stop crying, at least the yowls were muffled now.

And after the cat was covered up, Galena realized that she was bored. She really, really wanted to do something… while they had been riding trains to get to New York, Mama and Papa had kept her entertained with stories and games like _matatena_, _canica_ and _loteria_, and when they'd told her to play by herself she'd had her _balero_ and her doll Carlotta. But right now Carlotta and all the games were packed away in their bags, and Mama and Papa were busy talking about adult things.

There were windows in the van; blackened windows so nobody could see inside, unless they put their faces right up against the glass. And they were on the road now, and moving very fast; surely too fast for anyone except the fastest and most agile of gargoyles to come up alongside and look in. Surely it would be okay for her to go look out? Mama had told her no before, but right now Mama and Papa were ignoring her; they were talking with Carlos about what life in Ishimura might be like. Galena casually sidled over to the window, and put her face up against it to look outside.

Bronx was still restlessly circling, but now he'd added to the routine by periodically lurching up to stand on his hind legs while looking out one of the van's small, round windows. Hudson had warned him to get down before he was seen, but Fox had said casually over her shoulder, "Don't worry about it; the windows are polarized for privacy. It'd take somebody with eyes as sharp and light-sensitive as yours to see anything inside."

"_Mama! Papa_!" Galena shouted, as she jerked away from the window. "_El Monstruo_!"

"#Galena, what are you doing! Get away from the window before you're seen!#" Malaquita commanded sharply.

Galena scurried from the window over to where Malaquita was sitting, to hide behind one of her mother's wings as she babbled, "#It was a monster; I saw a monster in another truck! Its eyes glowed like Papa's when he's _really_ angry, and it had ears as big as hands!#"

"Hey, is the kid okay?" Vinnie called back in concern, as he turned the van left onto 31st Street, heading north; part of the shortest route to LaGuardia Airport.

"She… she saw something that scared her, but she is fine," Carlos replied.

Malaquita and Cuarzo comforted their daughter, but almost absent-mindedly, trading glances with each other as they did so. Once she had quieted down, Cuarzo muttered to his mate, "#Remember the watchbeasts? Their eyes always glowed, and white for both males and females. And Galena has never seen one …#"

Two seats away, Demona looked on in silent concern. She'd understood enough of Galena's babbling to know that "ears as big as hands" and white glowing eyes were a fair description of the Manhattan Clan's watchbeast, Bronx. But what would he be doing in a vehicle driving down a street in Queens?

She finally told herself to just put the question out of her mind; she had far more immediate concerns to deal with, such as getting all the gargoyles aboard the Nightstone aircraft and behind the passenger cabin's privacy curtain without any other humans seeing them.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

What in the world had gotten into Bronx? On his third look through that window, he'd suddenly started barking excitedly, and throwing himself against the side of the van until Fox shouted that if they didn't restrain him, the van might tip over! And even now that he'd been nearly wrestled down to the van floor, he was whining and looking up at Hudson pleadingly, as if he was trying to convey something very important. But when Hudson got up and looked out the window himself, he saw nothing except a few other cars on the street, all of them piloted by ordinary humans, and none of them familiar to him as either enemies or allies.

"I dinna know what ye saw, or thought ye saw, lad," Hudson said as he settled back in his seat, "but it's gone now. Just ye be still, and patient; we'll be at the airport soon enough."

"And once we're in the airplane, I'll give you the soup bone I packed just for you," Broadway promised with a smile.

"Aye, and I put your tugging rope into the bag, too," Hudson said with a grin. "Think about all the hatchlings in the New Orleans clan who've never had a watchbeast to play with; I can guarantee ye'll have no end of playmates while we're there!"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

The guy's name was Igor Something-or-other; the last name started with a G and had too damn many consonants afterwards for the average American to pronounce. Since he'd been one of Tomas Brod's chief henchmen, Glasses and the other men working for Tony Dracon had simply referred to him as "Igor" when his name had come up in conversation, and thrown in the occasional Frankenstein joke.

Glasses fingered the Immigration ID card in his hands, considering, then tossed it to one of his guys and said, "stuff this down inside one of his boots or something. It'll save the cops time in identifying the body."

Joey caught the card, but asked, "Since when are we making it easier for the cops?" even as he walked over to where Igor lay dying, while clad in the tattered remains of a green gargoyle costume.

"We're not; we're just making it that much quicker for Brod to get the word that he's lost another one."

Still wearing the plastic surgeon's gloves he'd been wearing for the last few hours, Joey grabbed one of Igor's legs and wedged the ID card deep inside the gargoyle-foot-shaped boot he was wearing. Igor didn't react in any way; he was pretty much beyond reacting. After being snatched from his apartment, forced at gunpoint to don a bloodstained gargoyle costume, and then shot in the shoulder, beaten with an electrified sledgehammer, given a couple of shallow knife wounds where the costume had already been slashed, and finally shot in the gut, there wasn't much of anything that Igor could do except slowly bleed to death from both internal and external injuries.

Over in a corner, Hank had finally gotten the hang of that hovercycle, and was making it rise up and sink back down without actually touching the warehouse floor before rising back up again. "Hey, did your contact say we could keep this?" he called out from about twenty feet up.

"Sure did; it's our toy after we do the drop-off," Glasses reassured him. "Speaking of which, it's time to do it; our contact was really specific about the body actually dying on the dump site."

Hank nodded and steered the hovercraft over to where Igor lay, then brought her down and waited while Joey and another guy loaded the body aboard. The plan was that they would take Igor over to the roof of an apartment building nearby, drop him off and let him bleed out and finish dying all by his lonesome. After a couple of days, past the point when a coroner could establish the exact time of death, Glasses would place an anonymous call to the building's super and have him go up to the roof to discover the corpse.

Glasses wasn't stupid; he knew exactly what Ms. Destine was trying to accomplish. She wanted the police to find a body that was apparently from last night's battle with the Quarrymen; someone that had gotten away from the fight still breathing, but had died afterwards from his injuries. The body of a known criminal, one working for Tomas Brod, would throw the police off the trail of whoever had _really _been in that fight with the Q-Balls.

Glasses had a strong hunch that the former wearer of that costume, the one who had originally died in it, had been a Nightstone employee doing some testing of a Nightstone jetpack and some other weapons and armament; goods that would be marketed to armies and guerilla forces overseas, since Nightstone was a munitions manufacturer. (In addition to bloodstains in the front, the back of the costume clearly showed fabric ripped off the back between the wings; as if somebody had pulled a jetpack off before Ms. Destine had stuffed the costume into a case with the Quarryhammer and given it to Glasses.) And the employees flying around last night, wearing gargoyle costumes so nobody would realize they were flying with jetpacks instead, had had the bad luck to run into Quarrymen on patrol…

Glasses hadn't made the decision to accept the contract right away, even after Ms. Destine had doubled her offer. Fact is, his organization was no friend to the gargoyles, and anything that got those winged freaks into more trouble was a good thing as far as he was concerned. But as Ms. Destine had pointed out, the Quarrymen were rising in power rapidly… and any vigilante organization that came to power, no matter what their intentions had been in the beginning, soon came to crave that power more than any ideas of 'protecting the innocents'. The Klu Klux Klan down South had started out a lot like the Quarrymen… and now they were funding their operations with illegal weapons sales and drug trafficking, and other unsavory activities. Activities that the Dracon organization was currently engaged in, and had no intention of sharing turf with anyone else, thank you very much. And word had reached Glasses' ears even before today that the KKK heartily approved of the Quarrymen, and their Grand Wizard had sent the Quarrymen's leader a letter promising assistance if needed…

So what Dracon's men were doing tonight might end up taking some heat off those winged freaks that were making themselves such a nuisance, but the more important goal was making sure that the Quarrymen didn't turn into another Klan and take over the city. Glasses waved to Hank as he flew out of sight with Igor's still-breathing body aboard, then turned to the other men and said, "Okay, let's clean this place up. You know the drill, guys; let's make it look like we were never here."

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

After packing her bags and arranging for her cat to be taken care of, her mail to be picked up, her rent and other bills to be paid, and her phone to be forwarded to the Xanatos' home (for further forwarding down to New Orleans, once she had a viable phone number there), Elisa took a cab to JFK International Airport, and arrived only twenty minutes later than when she'd told Goliath she'd arrive; she hated being late for anything, but considering all she'd done so far in so little time, she didn't beat herself up about it. When she arrived at the private hangar containing the Xanatos Enterprises cargo jet, she discovered that nearly everyone was already aboard the aircraft and waiting for her. The sole exception was Goliath, who was waiting for her in the shadows behind the cargo jet's left landing gear assembly.

"Elisa!" he called out to her with such joy in his voice, and as they hugged and kissed in the shadows under the aircraft's wing, all of Elisa's concerns vanished for the moment as she felt herself wrapped in her husband's loving embrace.

After their private greeting, Goliath led her up the stairs to the jet's entrance, where the rest of the clan and four strangers, two gargoyle and two human, awaited them. But before Goliath could introduce her to them and vice versa, Fox hustled up with a pad of paper and pen in hand, and said brightly to Elisa, "Great, you're here; you can help me out with explaining the games! We're playing 'Mad Libs', and some folks here have never heard of the terms 'adjective' and 'adverb', let alone know the difference between them. Or would you rather explain the rules of Crazy Eights, for the folks who don't want to play Mad Libs?"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

"Tell everyone to prepare themselves; we're taking off now!" Demona said to Carlos and Hiroshi with a smile, as the taxing plane's engines changed the pitch of their whine even higher.

Galena was at one of the windows, waving madly to Vinnie where he was standing next to the van that had brought them all here; through another window, Demona saw him wave back before he vanished from view.

Moments later their acceleration increased, and shortly after everyone took their seats, the plane gave that final little bump of wheels against pavement before rising smoothly into the sky. Galena cheered, and began babbling excitedly in Spanish about their being on their way to Japan, and to another clan, and to gargoyle children just like her! Yama and Hiroshi assured her again that they would all be welcomed and would have a wonderful time, before beginning the Japanese language lessons again. Demona sat in on the session this time, reminding herself to speak the words with an American accent instead of pronouncing them exactly as Yama and Hiroshi were; it wouldn't do for anyone to suspect that she knew the words already, let alone that she had lived in Japan for several years, a long time ago. She wondered how much Ishimura would resemble the home of the deceased Yatsushiro Clan…

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Over in one corner of the aircraft's cargo area, Elisa was teaching Brooklyn, Hudson and Marcel how to play Crazy Eights, while Fox led the rest in another hilarious round of "Mad Libs." When they'd had a moment alone earlier, Elisa had whispered a question to Fox: why was she acting like a rabid cruise director?

"To keep these people from having any _real_ conversations," Fox had said bluntly. "From what Adam said earlier, we think he and his people heard or read about the battle last night, and they think _our_ guys were involved in it because of Broadway's injury. Do you really want them talking about current events yet?"

Elisa had shut up, grabbed the Crazy Eights deck and started shuffling. Now several minutes later, Brooklyn was taking an early lead in the card game, but they had paused in their play momentarily to listen to the latest Mad Libs results. Goliath had been chosen to read the results since he had the best speaking voice, and even their normally solemn leader couldn't keep a straight face as he read aloud, "Tex sprang from the saddle of his _sewer rat_, pulling his own _ladle_ and aiming it straight at the villain. He _walked_ with uncanny aim, and _New Jersey_ Pete went down with _27_ shots right in the _toenail,_ falling over into a pool of _mead_. The townsfolk thanked Tex for ridding them of such a terrible _vase_, before he (_snicker_) rode off into the _tree_ once more." Everyone was howling with laughter by the time he was finished, even the card game players; so much so that they hardly noticed when their plane actually took off.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Back in the Labyrinth, Talon was listening to Matt and promising that he and the mutates would keep 'the kids' down below ground, until Matt sent word that the uproar from last night's incident had died down enough to make it safe for them to emerge again. And in the clocktower over the 23rd Precinct, Heinrich was sound asleep. The emotional catharsis of finding evidence of others of his kind, combined with the lethargy he'd already been experiencing from so many days without sunlight, had quite simply worn him out. It was highly unusual for a gargoyle to sleep in flesh instead of stone, but since nobody was watching him, Heinrich decided that just this once wouldn't hurt. He'd decided that he would nap for a few hours, then go out searching for the gargoyles that used to live in this building… blissfully unaware that they had already left town…

_THE END_

(except for a wee epilogue, in another posting.)

**Cajun French translations:**

_chef de clan_: clan leader

_fils de putains_: sons of bitches

_Mais oui_ : yes, absolutely!

_Poo-yaille_ : an exclamation of great dismay; it translates roughly to "Holy shit!" (Yes, it's surprising that an aged Catholic priest would use such words, but Father Maurice is full of surprises.)

_très_ : very, highly

**German translations: **

Drache: dragon

Fledermaus: a bat

Gott sei Dank: Thank God

Mehr unserer Art. Schließlich mehr von uns: More of our kind. More of us at last.

Mutti: Mommy

Piraten: Pirates

**Japanese translations:**

_Arawareru_: come out; appear

**Mexican Spanish translations:**

Balero: a Mexican toy made from a stick with a heavy cap which fits over it and is tied to it. The idea is to catch the cap on the stick, by tossing it in the air and thrusting quickly.

el baño: bathroom

Canicas: a game of marbles

Loteria: Mexican version of Bingo

Matatena: Mexican term for a game of 'jacks'

Monstruo: monster

¿Que: What?


	3. Oh, Did I forget To Tell You?

**COMINGS AND GOINGS EPILOGUE:**

_**Oh, did I forget to tell you…?**_

By Kimberly T. (kimbertow at yahoo dot com)

_See Parts 1 and 2 for disclaimers and acknowledgments!_

It had been a long, long night, but it wasn't over yet! Elisa had to remind herself to keep her spirits up and be unrelentingly cheerful, even if by now she was thoroughly sick and tired of being so damned cheerful. She felt like a cheerleader must feel in the fourth quarter of a football game; even if her team was winning, she would be sincerely glad when it was just plain over.

For the last three-and-a-half hours, she and Fox had been busy keeping the gargoyles busy. The women had been in charge of entertainment during the flight to New Orleans; entertaining both the Manhattan Clan and the members of the New Orleans clan that had come to New York. They had played Mad Libs. They had played Crazy Eights. They had played a ton of other games that Fox had brought with her, in her near-frantic efforts to keep the gargoyles from having any _real_ conversations, and therefore from talking about the events of the night before. The Manhattan Clan gargoyles didn't know that the Quarrymen had waged a battle against other gargoyles (or possibly gargoyle imitators; no one knew for sure yet) and had definitely lost eleven men in the process. It was Fox and Elisa's job to make sure they didn't find out about that until it was far too late; too late for them to demand that they turn around and go back to New York to investigate.

Once he did find out, Goliath would probably be **_furious_** at the way he'd been played; the way all the clan had been manipulated into leaving town, to get them out of harm's way. Elisa knew she would probably bear the brunt of his anger, too. Fox might be a reformed woman now (though Elisa occasionally had her doubts), but deception and misdirection had been her stock-in-trade, not all that long ago; even if they lived under the same roof together, the clan didn't entirely trust her or her husband. But Elisa was another matter; Elisa was **_clan_**. Elisa was the leader's mate. And leaders' mates did NOT do this sort of thing, deceiving the entire clan, even if it was for the clan's own good… not the good ones, anyway…

Periodically throughout the night, Elisa had found herself thinking of Demona. Back in old Scotland, Demona had been Goliath's mate, and his second-in-command. It was far too easy for Elisa to draw parallels between what Demona had done in ancient Scotland, a bargain and deception that had ultimately led to the slaughter of nearly the entire clan, and what Elisa was doing right now… and every time she thought of that, Elisa wanted to throw up. But she had to be _cheerful_, dammit! Or Goliath would notice and ask her what was bothering her, and then the fat would be in the fire for sure.

They had landed in New Orleans half an hour ago. As soon as they'd touched ground, Fox had sprung into action again, hustling everyone off the aircraft and into the shadows, and urging that Adam show them the fastest and sneakiest way out of the airport, before the day shift maintenance crews started arriving. Adam had willingly complied, and soon they'd all been in the air again (though without the use of jet engines this time,) headed for downtown New Orleans. Elisa wasn't being carried by Goliath this time; the clan leader's great wingspan was needed to help Broadway glide, since the aquamarine gargoyle's wing was still far from wholly functional again. Goliath and Broadway flew in tandem directly behind Adam, the New Orleans clan's leader, who was carrying an older man called Father Maurice. Instead, Elisa was in the arms of a female named Rebecca, while Fox was carried by Brooklyn, Bronx was carried by Angela, and a fourth human named—what was it?—Marcel, that was it—he rode with Hudson. Elisa had learned the names of the four New Orleans natives during the trip down from New York, but not much more than that, and she was sure they didn't know much more about her than her name, either. Which was just fine with Elisa; despite Goliath's reassurances over the phone earlier, she wasn't ready to go trumpeting their mated status to strangers just yet, not even to strange gargoyles. Elisa had encountered plenty of anti-human prejudice during that World Tour, and knew all too well that intolerance wasn't just a humans-only trait.

It was odd, though; when Goliath had reassured her over the phone that the clan down here would be fine with the idea of her and Goliath being mates, he'd implied it had something to do with their clan leader. They hadn't had much opportunity to talk since then, so Elisa still didn't know what he meant. Did Adam have a human mate? Elisa had decidedly to very indirectly query Rebecca about Adam's mate, though not with specific questions about species. Instead, she'd wondered aloud if the leader's mate was also his second-in-command, as had occurred a few times back in old Scotland, and had been seen in a couple other clans around the world. Rebecca had answered willingly enough that Adam's mate Elizabeth wasn't the second-in-command; instead, that post was held by another gargoyle named Stephen. And with just a bit more gentle prodding, Rebecca had revealed that Elizabeth was a fine female who certainly had the temperament for a second-in-command, but often spent her nights in the rookery with the hatchlings instead. Oh, and her hide was nearly the same shade of lavender as Goliath and Angela, but her mane was snow white instead…

So that question was answered; Adam had a regular gargoyle mate. Elisa didn't dare ask any other questions about why the clan would theoretically—hypothetically—be accepting of a human and a gargoyle being mates. So instead, she and Fox chattered across the wind to each other, talking about what they'd heard about New Orleans and its inhabitants, and asking Rebecca and Marcel to either confirm or deny what they'd been told.

Soon the clan was descending slowly towards a house below them, one that Rebecca assured them was owned by a human member of the clan. Evidently, the patrolling members of the clan spent their days slumbering in stone in the attic of this house, soaking up rays through a skylight, rather than glide all the way out to where the rest of the clan perched. There were two trucks parked outside the house, both about the size and shape of bakery delivery trucks; one had a popular rental company's logo on the side, but the other was painted plain white. Rebecca told her that they'd all be using those trucks to ride out to the mansion that housed the rest of the clan, roughly fifty miles outside New Orleans.

Once they landed on the house's roof and went inside, Elisa was introduced to Ruby and Willie LeBeau, and their son Toby; evidently cousins of Marcel LeBeau, and clan members who chose to live in town and maintain the safe house. But they assured Marcel and the others that they would be coming out to 'the big house' tonight to celebrate the historic occasion, a meeting between clans.

There were also six members of the clan who were still out on patrol, and Rebecca wanted them to stay at the house long enough to meet the returning patrollers, particularly her favorite rookery brother Robert. But Adam was in a hurry to get everyone into the trucks and on the road, hoping that they would reach the mansion before dawn. So they piled outside and into the trucks, and Elisa willingly let Fox maneuver it so that she and Goliath were in separate trucks again. She shared one truck with Broadway, Brooklyn, Angela and Rebecca, with Marcel at the wheel, while Goliath rode in the other with Hudson, Bronx, Lexington, Fox and Adam, with Father Maurice at the wheel.

Fox had slipped her one of the Mad Libs pads just before she'd gotten into the truck, but Elisa put it away. One could take only so much silliness before it got tiresome, and Elisa herself had passed the threshold a long time ago. Instead, she just let the gargoyles talk amongst themselves; if someone mentioned the battle now, at least they were in New Orleans already, and the jet that had brought them here was refueled and on its way to South America. They'd be feeling betrayed and furious at her, but at least they'd be safely away from the shooting, and with no immediate means of return.

But instead of New York, the gargoyles had other questions about New Orleans, which Rebecca was only too happy to answer. She even taught them a few words of French and Cajun dialect, which they'd be apt to encounter if they spent any time in the city. Rebecca was sure that during their stay in the clan's home, they'd have occasion to go 'into town' at least once, and she'd be happy to play tour guide when the occasion arose. Several human members of the clan held jobs in New Orleans, usually night shift work, and Rebecca could take them to two different restaurants where, if they sneaked in the back door, they'd be shown to a private room where they could feast on all sorts of New Orleans delicacies. Of course, they didn't have to wait until then to try good New Orleans cuisine; Rebecca's rookery sister Martha was an excellent cook, and her jambalaya and gumbo were better than could be found at half the restaurants in town! Oh, and there was ample hunting here in the bayous outside New Orleans, for those who wanted a chance to sharpen their skills after being in the city for so long. New York might have legends of alligators in the sewers, but Rebecca could show Brooklyn (and the others, of course) how to hunt _real_ gators in the swamps!

Elisa had to smile at the way Rebecca was practically wrapping herself around Brooklyn; if that wasn't a full-blown crush in action, then Elisa had never been a teenager herself. Brooklyn just seemed dazed at the attention he was getting, but once he shook himself out of it, and if he played his cards right this time, Elisa thought the clan's second-in-command just might be saying goodbye to those lonely single nights.

Broadway evidently thought the same thing; he was periodically nudging either Elisa or Angela, and winking or smiling while nodding his head in Brooklyn and Rebecca's direction. And after Rebecca blatantly used the excuse of a sudden bump from a pothole in the road to literally fall into Brooklyn's lap, Broadway whispered just loud enough for Elisa to hear, "They make a cute couple, don't you think?"

Angela's smiles in return always seemed a bit strained, but at Broadway's whisper, she agreed that yes, they did make a cute couple.

Since Broadway was glancing at Angela just then, he didn't see Elisa's sudden small frown. Was it her imagination… or had Brooklyn, when he'd glanced at her as Rebecca was landing in his lap, frantically rolled his eyes and mouthed the words 'help me'?

Not too longer after Brooklyn, blushing maroon, helped Rebecca get back to her feet, he lifted his head and muttered, "Feels like dawn's coming."

Broadway and Angela nodded agreement, and Rebecca called out to Marcel at the wheel, "How much further to home?"

" 'Bout four miles," Marcel called back. "But the sun's a-coming faster than home is… 'Best show everyone how to hunker down for makin' easy later."

Rebecca nodded before getting off the bench on her side of the truck, squatting down and wrapping her tail, arms and wings around herself. She directed everyone to copy her actions, telling them, "This'll make it easier for them to unload us later, so we won't have to wake up in the truck. Don't worry about being dropped while you're asleep; most of our human clan members are old hands at this. And we've got dollies and packing blankets and everything you'd need for the occasion; even a little forklift, for really heavy statues. And when he knows it's apt to happen, Adam always stays awake to help with any heavy lifting, until the last gargoyle is unloaded and put on a perch in the back yard."

"Wait a minute… did you say that Adam stays awake? Past sunrise?" Elisa said confusedly as the other three gargoyles hunkered down and wrapped themselves up like Rebecca had done.

Brooklyn lifted his head just enough to give her a sheepish grin. "Oh, yeah; we should have mentioned that to you earlier, but we kinda got carried away with all the games and the excitement of getting here. Adam said he can stay awake past sunrise if he concentrates hard enough. It comes from his being half-human…" Anything else he might have said was cut off as the sun peeped over the horizon outside, and the four gargoyles in the truck turned to stone, leaving an absolutely flabbergasted human in their midst.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

A few minutes ago, in the second truck, Adam had given the same reassurances to the gargoyles riding with him; he would stay awake and personally see to it that everyone was safely installed on a low perch, before allowing himself to turn to stone for the day. After he directed them in the best posture for sleeping, that would make it easier to unload them later on, Adam said, "Before dawn comes… I confess, my half-human heritage means one or two of my sense aren't as sharp as the average gargoyle's. In particular, my sense of smell is weaker. So where any other gargoyle would know, I have to ask: which male of your clan is Angela mated to?"

After staring at Adam for a moment, Lexington replied, "She isn't actually mated to anyone yet."

"But she's promised herself to Broadway, come the breeding season," Hudson threw in swiftly. "Though the lad will need to get in better shape before then…"

Adam winced. "That wing injury… well, we've had some wing injuries down here in the past, though none as extensive as that one was; our clan's healers have some experience in helping gargoyles return to the air, and we'll certainly do what we can to help him. And in the meantime, I'll let the others know that Broadway is to be considered, ah, 'off-limits'."

Hudson, Goliath, Lexington and Fox all stared at him curiously as they queried in sync, "Others? What others?"

Adam grinned. "What, didn't I mention it before? I suppose I didn't; I was saving that for my final inducement for your clan to come down here, and it turned out it wasn't necessary. The other unmated females; my clan currently has six unmated females, five of them still of breeding age. And I can assure you that all of them are _very_ anxious to meet your clan's four available males…"

And the sun's rays peeked over the horizon and crept into the truck's interior, illuminating three stone statues with expressions of astonishment frozen onto their faces. Adam chuckled at their expressions, and even Fox had to admit that it was pretty funny. Two minutes later the truck pulled off the road and onto a long driveway, and Adam proclaimed that they were at the home of the New Orleans Clan. He went forward to where Father Maurice was driving, opened the passenger side door and leaped out, letting the wind from their driving catch in his wings; then he swooped on ahead of the truck to where a fair-sized mansion was sitting atop a hill, half a mile away.

By leaving before the journey was entirely over, he missed seeing Fox counting on her fingertips as she muttered, "Four? One, two, three… oh." She gave a wry smile as she concluded, "Elisa is **_not_** going to like this…"

THE END

And after a couple of brief interludes in New York and Japan, we're going to jump right into:

MATING GAMES


End file.
